


To Dream Of Stars And Live On Fire

by less_than_happyy



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Canon Disabled Character, Disability, Disabled Character, Dragons, Dreams, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fantasy, Happy Relationships, High Fantasy, M/M, Magic, Multi, Other, Physical Disability, Polyamory, Protective Siblings, Romance, Siblings, Vampires, Were-Creatures, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-07-29 04:23:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20076082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/less_than_happyy/pseuds/less_than_happyy
Summary: Alphonse and Edward have been living in Central for a little over two months, at the Hughes' family's' invitation. A fully furnished apartment for them, just outside city center.Ed like's the noise of the market, and the grass in the park. He loves the library, and has it's sections and categories and books memorized in lists in his brain that he can work through forwards and back. He loves the local magic shop with it's annoying witch who he only tolerates because Al likes her. Ed likes to wander the streets on the ever cooling nights, getting to know the local night life, even if his regular proximity to vampires makes Alphonse fret.Ed is 23, and he's felt like he's been lost on Earth since he was 9 - before then, really, but that's when the dreams started, so that's when everything didn't start that he inexplicably knows should have - and he's finally beginning to find somewhere he belongs, something he belongs in, people he belongs around. He knows it can't last. Nothing ever does. But maybe, even as everything goes wrong around them, they can cling together. Ed doesn't want to lose his home, his brother, or these people that he cares about, and he'll fight a war to make sure of it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I have been working on for a while. It is long. I don't like posting fics that I haven't 100% finished and edited and had reviewed by my partner, so I've been sitting on this for a while. But a friend of mine pestered me to post it, and for whichever reason, my brain decided it was imperative that I listen to her. Possibly, because if I never post my long stories - nobody ever gets to read them. This story is currently a 62 page document, so. At least I have chapters to post as I write and edit more.  
Because there's going to be a lot more. I mostly understand how the plot of this story is going to go and there's going to be. A lot more.  
Relatively speaking, Ed/Greed/Ling happens pretty early, in this story, and they don't really have relationship drama, save one panic Ed has around chapter 10, I think, which they talk through like reasonable fucking adults. So. If you want to read dramatic fantasy world bullshit, with a happy, stable, loving, queer relationship at the center of it, then this is probably your jam.  
Because the entire story is not completely written yet, I can not guarantee that I won't go back and change chapters that no longer make sense. I'll probably add tags as I think of them, and as they become applicable.  
Any-fucking-ways.  
Don't fucking judge me, this ran away from me, came back, ate me, and then spat me out with an inability to ignore it, for the better part of the last 8 months.

Its late out, crisp air blowing the hair that had escaped Ed’s braid about. He curled his left hand tighter around its crutch, face tucked down slightly as he wandered towards his apartment. It’s cool out, but he isn’t cold. Certainly not cold enough to take the bus home, even if Al would reprimand him for it later – _“You’re always making bad decisions, Edward! It’s stressful!”_

A feeling dusted itself over Ed’s shoulders, and he tucked his head further down, and sped up his steps and crutch falls a fraction. He focused on the sound of his own steps – a heavy step and a hollow step with two metallic clinks. Sound had always been the easiest distraction for Ed, given him time to calculate what’s happening. Potential friend, or possible attacker.

The feeling pressed a little more, but it’s not painful, it’s not invasive. It’s almost curious. Ed stopped walking.

Al is right – Ed _does_ make bad decisions, but those bad decisions have nothing to do with him walking home in the cold.

“What do you want?” Ed called into the night. Nobody responded. The feeling lessoned a tiny bit, but didn’t go away, so Ed waited.

“I’m pretty sure you already know the answer to that,” a voice responded on the wind, ruffling his hair, twisting under his jacket and scarf like the cold. He wanted to lean into it. Ed tapped his left fingers rhythmically on his crutch, a copy of Al’s preferred method of focusing. His mind cleared. The feeling is trying to wrap its way into his bones – Ed doesn’t let it in.

“Then why don’t we talk about that, instead of you trying to thrall your way through this?” Ed snapped, crossing his arms. For a moment, the feeling persists, the silence holds, and then a startled laugh jolts through the air. The feeling goes away. His fingers still.

“Aren’t you charming,” the voice said, and a seemingly young man slid out of shadows that shouldn’t have been dark enough to hide him.

“I do my best,” Ed said, rolling his eyes and shifting his weight off his flesh leg, primed to flee or fight. He’s far better at sudden reaction times with it than his prosthetic one. In case it came to that. “Now, you. Use your words.”

He grinned. He _grinned_ and it makes Ed’s heart do an infuriating little jump. Ed raised his brows, doing his best to exude impatience.

“I was just looking for an evening snack. Generally, I use packs of blood, but every now and then I like to go out and experience the real thing,” he said.

“There are bars for that. Significantly higher guarantee of success. Safer too. What if I was a hunter?”

The man tipped his head to the side. “Are you a hunter?”

Ed made a face. “Of course not. But you couldn’t possibly _know_ that without me telling you. And that’s – that’s _besides_ the point,” Ed growled.

“Oh, _do_ tell me what the point is then,” the man said, and _fuck_ the part of Ed that found him attractive. Because he was a complete _asshole_.

And also a vampire, and probably significantly older than Ed because of that.

“I don’t like the bars,” the man said, taking pity on Ed. He looks mildly put off. “The people there have a _thing_ for vampires. They’re always unnerving. If I can find somebody else, I’ll go with them instead.”

Ed watched him. He was holding in a sigh. He had already made his decision, the moment he decided to stop instead of trudging on home, ignoring the thrall. “I need your name,” Ed growled, the words coming out a lot harsher than he’d meant it to.

“And why is that?”

The sigh escaped. “Because I don’t just let all random vampires drink my blood. So who _are_ you?”

He grinned. He _grinned_, the smile splitting his face. It’s a stupidly charming grin. “I’m Ling, and you are?”

“You can call me Ed.”

“Ed,” Ling said, like he’s tasting Ed’s name, “it’s _wonderful_ to meet you.”

Ed tells him his place isn’t the best place for them to do this, so they walk together towards Ling’s home. Ling looked at him, occasionally, curious. Ed ignored him, and kept pace, easily. Ling didn’t slow down for him, or take any extra precautions, and Ed is remarkably grateful.

“So, you make a habit of this?” Ling asked.

“Of _what_?” Ed grumbled. He scuffed his shoes against the ground.

“Of letting vampires feed on you.”

Ed frowned. “Not a habit. But, when I think somebody needs some help…” Ed shrugged. “Food is food. Everything alive deserves the right to eat.”

He’d been four when Winry was turned. She had been his baby sitter those days. And as he got older, and she stayed the same, they became friends. He had hated that she needed to struggle for food. Had hated when he found out she pushed her feedings out because it was hard to find people in their village that were willing, and traveling to the nearest city took time and energy.

So Winry had been the first. But she was far from the last.

“I see,” Ling said quietly. There’s a gentle smile on his face. Ed looked away. “I should warn you – I have an odd assortment of housemates. None of which are human. Dairus and Heinkel are werefolk. They’re friendly enough, but will probably be asleep. And then there’s… ah… well. He goes by Greed and he’s a vampire as well. And… well. You’ll see. Don’t let him get under your skin.”

“Mm,” Ed acknowledged.

“He’ll try,” Ling said, turning them off the main road. They are surprisingly close to his favourite market, if he’s not mistaken. Ling took two steps up to a wooden door, fiddled around for a few moments as he searched for his key, before turning to Ed, face pinched. “Will the steps be –”

“Nope,” Ed said. He put his crutches on the first step and swung his body onto the second with practiced ease, balancing himself carefully as he brought his crutches back to his sides to steady him.

“Right,” Ling said, opening the door and taking a step inside, gesturing Ed in grandly.

“Thanks,” Ed said, and rolled his eyes.

They’re alone for almost three seconds before anther man is with them. He has short hair and a mischievous smile and moves with the extremely unnatural grace of an old vampire. It’s nothing like the way Ling moves, and even less like Winry. Part of Ed wanted to turn tail and run, part of him is charmed, and part of Ed says, _if he tries to hurt you, just light him on fire_.

“So, who do you have here, Ling?” Greed – this _has_ to be the Greed Ling had warned him about – said.

“Not here for you,” Ling snapped. Ed feels the very brief thrall slither over him, as Greed gives him a quick inspection. Greed turned back Ling.

“He’s not even thralled! You don’t normally go for bar boys.”

Nope. Ed was stopping this. _Now_. “I’m _not_ from a bar. Ling tried to thrall me. He didn’t. We talked some and I offered to come anyways. Now you can fuck off.”

Greed has own face splitting grin. But where Ling’s is warm, Greed’s is almost feral. “_And_ he has a mouth. Ling, you lucked out on this one. You sure you don’t want to share?”

Ling let out a breath of air, and stretched, and started to walk further into the home. “That would be Ed’s choice, not mine, Greed. Ed isn’t a _thing_ to take,” Ling said. Greed and Ed are both just watching Ling make his way to the mouth of the hallway, where he stopped. “Or had you forgotten that?”

Greed is storming across the house towards a very calm Ling, in a fast enough, aggressive enough, manner, that Ed almost startled into action. But this isn’t his house or his business. He _does_ calculate how quickly he could get himself out of here. _Don’t forget the steps_. But Greed skid to a halt in front of Ling and said, “Kiss me.”

And Ling does.

Ed’s eyebrows shoot up. It only lasted a moment before Greed pulled back, then disappeared down the hall. Ling sighed and looked to Ed. “Sorry about that. You still coming?”

Ed stared at him, still halfway between kicking out the blade on the bottom of his right crutch, and turning and getting the fuck out of here. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

And then, he has to say it, the words tumbling out before he can stop himself. “Isn’t it a little hypocritical to try and thrall me and _then_ defend my right to a choice?” Ed asked.

Ling barked out a quiet, soft, laugh. “Oh, I specifically leave the minds of those I thrall free so that they can tell me they’re uninterested, and I can see if they’re panicking, so I can let them go. Greed _doesn’t_, but I’m working on him being at least a little better at the caretaking and consent part of things.”

Ed raised his brows, and Ling shrugged. “You said yourself – everything deserves to eat. This is just how I hunt. Now. Are you still coming?”

“Yeah.”

They make their way into what must be Ling’s room. It doesn’t look very Amestrian. To be fair, Ling doesn’t look or sound or act like he’s from Amestris. There’s a floor couch, and low table. Towards the back, there’s a pile of blankets and soft things, that Ed imagines constitutes a bed. There’s a small shelf full of nonperishable foods. There’s not a lot else, but the walls have tapestries and art all over them. The art is _definitely_ not Amestrian. And looks extremely expensive.

“We can go back to the living space, or use my couch or my bed. Your choice, Ed,” Ling said, his voice lilting like it had earlier.

“The couch is fine. Just let me –” Ed broke off as he made his way to the wall next to the couch. He leaned against it and slowly began to undo the bindings that held his right crutch to his person.

Ling set about moving a few of the pillows off of the couch and tossing them to the back of his room. “Earlier…” Ling started, “you resisted my thrall. I am assuming that you know that being drunk from while not under a thrall isn’t widely considered pleasant.”

Ed leaned his crutches against the wall, right arm falling limply at his side. He rolled his shoulders. “I can let thralls take hold of me,” Ed said. “I can just also break out of them. So it won’t be a problem.”

Ling gave him the look again, the almost curious look that Ed could _feel_ in Ling’s thrall.

Ed used the wall to leverage his way down, and then went over the back of the floor couch, because that was far easier than maneuvering on one good and one prosthetic leg, around the couch, and then figuring out how to sit on it. Ling joined him, hopping onto the cushion, crouching, and then listing to the side, towards Ed, legs now tucked beneath his body. They watched each other, for a moment.

“I’m ready,” Ed said.

Ling grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think you can guess where chapter two starts.  
Anyways. I hope you liked that. I have the first several chapters already edited so. I might post the next one pretty immediately, or I might wait a day or two. We'll see.  
Love y'all.  
And I'd love comments or kudos or whatever. I dunno. This has been my child for the better part of the past year.  
I am having. A particularly large amount of anxiety regarding posting this fic compared to usual. So. Even just encouragement would be nice.  
I love y'all.  
\- Lthyy


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a fan of Ed and Al being excessively protective siblings.  
Also, for a little reference: Ed's disability was pretty easy to translate, because people can lose limbs, and people can lose limbs and still be incredibly functional and run and fight and dance and be awesome. But I was trying to find a translation in my universe for Al, and decided to make his condition be along the lines of MCAS (mast cell activation syndrome). People with MCAS often wear breathing masks to avoid mast cell triggers in the air, may cover their skin, or wear clothing made out of specific fabrics, to avoid mast cell triggers that may get on them (or like, MCAS and skin writing is famous, look it up), and people who have, or live in homes, with folks with MCAS may keep their home and things to a high standard of sanitary to avoid mast cell triggers, all among other things. Alphonse doesn't actually have MCAS in this fic, but, a lot of the experiences he has are based off of it, and it gave me a way to have him "concealed" without him being a literal suit of armor. The real thing going on him with him is... spoilers?  
Anyways.  
I hope you enjoy this.  
((Additionally: I am a disabled author writing disabled characters. Not all of their experiences are my own, but some of them are. Some of them are my friends experiences. Some of them are things I've had to look up references for. Disability is a weird and varied thing, that looks incredibly different even between two people with the same condition, so. So don't let the way I am writing my disabled characters be the end all say all of how disability works.))

Ed felt Ling’s thrall reach out, and for a moment, he resisted it, habitually, before he lets go.

Ed had been under an assortment of vampires’ thralls, and they’re all different. Some are dreamlike, some are like all thing’s good, some dull out all of the senses, and some make it so you are extremely present in some ways while very disconnected in others. There are bad thrall’s, cruel thrall’s, too, but Ed has far less experience with those. Ling’s falls somewhere between the last and the first, isolating and calming. Ed blinked at Ling, who was just about the only thing in his vision that wasn’t pleasantly swirling, a look of surprise on his face. There’s Ed's background noise too, of knowing he could shake this off as soon as he wanted or needed to. Ed did his best to ignore that. “Hm?”

“I suppose – I wasn’t expecting you to just let it happen,” Ling said. Ed watched as he reached a hand forward, and ghosted it against his jaw and throat, down his left arm, where he rested his fingers on Ed’s pulse, tucked just inside his sleeve. “You sure you want to do this?” Ling asked one last time.

Even with the feeling wrapped around him, and Ling’s _extremely_ distracting hand on his skin, Ed could think remarkably clearly. “I wouldn’t have offered, otherwise,” he said.

Ling brought Ed’s arm up, and carefully rolled the sleeve to his mid bicep, and looked it over. Ed couldn’t not watch, as Ling brought down his mouth and bit, just below the joint of his elbow.

Where it should hurt, Ed can feel Ling’s thrall push against him further, can feel it twist sweet dreams into his skin, warp reality, and make everything fuzzy and soft and nice. Ling’s thumb rubbed gently at Ed’s wrist, and each movement felt like static and sparks, like this, warped and comforting. A part of him wanted Ling to touch his whole body like this. Thralled to make all of his touches electric.

Ed made very, very, certain to not say that, letting his background noise give his thoughts just enough stability to reason out why that was a bad idea. He does hum softly, though, and Ling’s eyes flicked up to him, and they look like they're _burning_.

Like everybody who feeds in the politest manner, it’s done faster than Ed think’s it’s going to be.

Ling had gotten up and was fiddling around with something at the shelf. Ed was leaning into the couch, catching his breath. He’s still thralled, and part of him wanted to yank away and retake control, and part of him found it comforting. Thrall’s can be. Teacher had, once upon a time, strove to make sure he understood that. _And I still had to fail, first._

“Eat,” Ling said as he sat back down, and placed a biscuit of some sort in Ed’s hand. Ed stared at it for a moment, and then closed his eyes. He pushed a little, and the world broke back through to him.

His elbow ached a tad, from where Ling had been feeding. He was a touch nauseous, and the slightest bit dizzy. But he was present again. Ed liked being present. A moment later, the pressure of Ling’s thrall disappeared entirely.

“Sorry. I’m not used to people who can just… break out,” Ling said. Ed gave him a tiny smile.

He held up the biscuit, and after a moment, took a bite. Ling watched him intently. “It’s not exactly a normal talent,” Ed said with a shrug.

“No, it’s not,” Ling agreed. Ed thought that Ling was waiting for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t have anything else to say on the matter. Not because he doesn’t think that it’s fascinating that he has this _gift_, but because he doesn’t know _why_ he and Al have this gift. Ling looked away from him. “You are more than welcome to stay the rest of the night. I know being fed has side effects, the moon is halfway through its cycle, and I wouldn’t want you to get hurt getting home.”

For a moment, Ed considered it. But he can’t sleep around strangers, can't let himself _dream_ around strangers. Ed shook his head. “I can take care of myself,” Ed said, twisting awkwardly towards standing. Al had once laughed at him, during a spar and said, _“You’re nearly unbeatable, so long as you stay on your feet.”_

Ling offered him a hand, and Ed scowled before taking it and hauling himself up. He walked around the couch, carefully balancing his weight on his prosthetic the way he had been taught, the way that made him almost pass for normal, but - he couldn’t fight without his crutches. They gave him extra stability, and reach, and a surprising upper hand that others didn’t expect. So it was his preference at just about all times.

Ling hadn’t said anything as Ed buckled himself back into his right crutch, and it was making Ed mad. “_What_?” he snapped, glaring at Ling. “Do you not think I’m _inc__apable_? Because I’m –”

“No, no! Not at all!” Ling threw up his hands in a pacifying gesture. “The _opposite_, I assure you. I was merely thinking.”

Ed swallowed his anger down but held his glare. “About?"

“Will I see you again?” Ling asked. Ed lost the glare, and tipped his head to the side.

“To feed again?” Ed asked.

“Ah, well, if you wanted,” Ling said, pressing his fingers together, “but more so, because I find you interesting.”

“Oh.”

Ling turned and started walking towards his bedroom door, not waiting an actual answer. “Let me walk you to the lamppost on the corner,” Ling said, opening his door to the hallway. Ed followed after him. Ling doesn’t head for the door to the street when they step into the living space though, instead heading to the kitchen counter, and making a glass of water. “But first,” Ling said, offering the glass to Ed.

Ed rested his crutch under his left elbow and against his right arm and took the glass.

The main living space was a hodgepodge of different people’s things. A well-stocked kitchen, more of Ling’s tapestries, intricate looking old books in an assortment of languages, a few herbs and plants for kitchen magic presumably, comfortable chairs and a couch, and a coffee table covered in knick-knacks and clutter. Ed hadn’t noticed earlier. Had been distracted by both Ling and Greed.

Ed downed the glass in silence.

“Sure,” Ed said as he placed the glass on the counter.

“Hm?”

Ling opened the door for him, and they stepped outside. Ed swung himself down the stairs, and didn’t shiver as he was surrounded by the chilly night air. “We can meet again,” Ed said, looking at Ling as they made their way towards the lamppost.

Ling looked delighted, eyes scrunching up, smile broad and soft. “I’ll see you around Ed,” Ling said, as they stopped in the lamp light.

“Likewise,” Ed said. He turned his back and moved a step away. “And maybe be less of an idiot the next time you go hunting.”

Ling’s laugh behind him was a fantastic thing, and Ed’s inside’s churned with the desire to turn back and look at him. See the way it scrunched up his face one more time.

He made it halfway to the next street corner, before he glanced back and –

Ling was standing at his doorway, and it looked like he was speaking with somebody, dressed in all black. Ed dismissed it; they had probably woken up one of Ling’s other housemates.

The walk home was calm and quiet.

Ed was lost in his thoughts. In the thought of going and speaking to Al – because Al _will_ wake up if wasn't awake waiting – the thought of sleeping and dreaming – again and again, _always_ the same damn dream – the thought of Ling’s smile and laugh and curiosity – and Greed’s too sharp _everything_.

Ed arrived home and the sky was still miraculously dark, though it wouldn't be for long. Ed moved over the single step into their home with practiced ease and into their entry way.

Al _is_ asleep as he starts his usual cleaning and bedtime ritual, but Ed knew it wouldn’t stay that way. He still tried to stay quiet.

The bedroom light flicked on, though, pressing out beneath the door frame.

“I’ll be done in just a minute,” Ed replied, because there was no point on pretending, anymore. There’s a vague sound of agreement and sleep that reached Ed’s ears, and he smiled, before he took hold of his crutch again, it now thoroughly wiped down, and tossed the wipe into the trash by the door.

Ed can’t help but think, _the floor creaks, his leg creaks, the door creaks_, as he made his way into their bedroom.

Al was sitting with his legs crossed, blankets swirled and wrapped around him, blinking in the dim lamp light, as if it’s excruciating. Ed’s heart pinched and ached. _Side effects. His fault_.

“You don’t have to keep the light on for me,” Ed said. The light stayed on.

Ed twisted himself with years of grace and practice onto the edge of his bed, and began detaching himself from his aids, laying his crutches next to his bed, unlacing one boot, and carefully undoing the attachments for his left leg.

“So,” Al said as Ed worked, “you’re home late.”

“Met some… locals,” Ed provided, and the huff that Al made was more like a frustrated yawn.

“That sounds bad. What was the fight like?”

“No fight,” Ed said, and gave his pocket-watches' chain a shake, “you would have been alerted if there was.”

“That thing probably doesn’t even work anymore,” Al said and clambered out of his bed, soft steps padding across the bedroom. He took the watch from Ed, connecting them by its chain, as Al inspected it with a frown. “You _know_ magic doesn’t like to be layered.”

“It works _fine_, Alphonse.” Al flicked open the watch and examined the various etchings inside, the dried herbs twisted into the gears. “It’s only three charms,” Ed defended. Al looked at Ed before _snapping_ the watch shut. Ed flinched.

“You removed the blood charm.”

“It’s unnecessary.”

“Not with your habits.”

“It’s –”

“_Edward_.”

“No random fucking vampire is going to let me _near_ them if I have a blood charm on me. You _know_ that,” Ed snapped. He glared at Alphonse. Alphonse glared back.

“That’s the _point_,” Al said, but he dropped the watch into Ed's palm, and walked back to his bed.

“Because you don’t like that –”

“I don’t like that you’re _reckless_, brother. We’ve been here for – two months? You don’t know the locals. You don’t know the vampires in this area. If a vampire got you to the point that your alarm went off? I wouldn’t be able to _find you_ before it’s too late,” Al said.

Ed glared at Al. This was a common argument of theirs. “And I’m never gonna meet the locals if they won’t even approach me because of that stupid charm. Al, what don’t you _get_ here?”

Al was glaring daggers at him, and for a moment, Ed expected a fight. A continued argument. Instead, Al said, “I get it. But I don’t like it.”

Ed sighed. He tugged the ponytail from his hair and started to work his fingers through undoing his braid. “I know,” Ed murmured.

Al worried because they’ve both been on the wrong side of various non-humans. They've booth been on the wrong side of _vampires_. And they both have their injuries that will never go away.

“I take it you met somebody?” Al asked, as Ed curled into his bed. The lamp was still on. Ed stared at the ceiling tiles.

“A… family, of sorts,” Ed said after a moment.

“Oh?” Al said. They hadn’t met any families since moving to Central, so the reaction made sense. Ed had _almost_ started wondering, after bumping into enough nice loners, if vampire families were more of a rural thing.

“All non-humans, but, they weren’t all vampires,” Ed finished. Ling’s fingers on his skin, twisted through his mind for a moment, how Ling’s thrall had made each touch feel electric. Ed shoved the thought away. “I noticed what looked like herbs for magic in their kitchen,” Ed said.

“That’s not abnormal,” Al said. The light clicked off, and Ed swallowed. Al wouldn’t like this part.

“And one of them knows I can ignore thralls.” There’s silence in the dark room. Ed can hardly hear Al breathing.

“_Ed_,” is hissed out, harsh and concerned and scared and dangerous.

“I had to tell him, Alphonse,” he rushed.

“That’s _dangerous_,” Al said in the same voice. The same, _I cannot trust you to make not bad decisions_, voice.

Ed swallowed. “He tried to thrall me while I was on my way home! I didn’t know if he was a threat or not, so…” he trailed off, and had the distinct feeling that he was digging himself a deeper hole.

“You - you _willingly_ went _into_ the _house_ of a _vampire_ who _thralled you without consent_ while you were walking home _late at night_?” Al shouted at him. Ed could hear him sit up, so he followed suit and looked across the room at Al on his own twin bed, form but a shadow, eyes reflecting light coming through the window. Ed swallowed.

“I couldn’t just _let him thrall me!_” Ed snapped back, flinging his arm out.

“But then you _willingly followed_ –”

“He was interesting! And he wasn’t going to hurt me. _Jeeze__!_ Al. I’m fine. I had your protection charm, and your warning charm – and neither went off. Because _I’m fine_.”

Ed couldn’t quite make out if Al was glaring at him or not, but he was almost certain that his brother was. This was how it always went: Ed made bad decisions, and Al reminded him that he was human, and, as far as Al was concerned, human, and an idiot.

“I’m fine,” he repeated, and Al shook his head, before flopping back onto his bed with force. Ed continued to sit there. Waiting.

It doesn’t take long before Al quietly relents, “I know.”

“It’s why we trained,” Ed said. Which is not exactly the full truth, but it is the ultimate truth.

“I know,” Al repeated.

Ed drew himself back into his bed. Some part of his heart ached for his brother. For how much his brother always worried. Like _Al_ was the one who had almost lost _him_. Ed settled properly into his bed, against his pillows. “You won’t lose me,” Ed whispered. It echoed in the dark, quiet, room, with their breathing. Al let out a long sigh, that shifted into a yawn part way through.

Ed closed his eyes. “And I’m still here,” Al replied. A small smile touched Ed’s mouth.

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter two. Tada. Thanks for reading. I'll see you tomorrow?  
Thank y'all for any comments or kudos or simply for stopping by and reading.  
((In my original writing of this I had used the word "christ" a few times as a blaspheme, but decided it didn't make sense in this universe, and then couldn't figure out what word to replace it with, so now you get, Edward Elric saying "jeeze."))  
Love y'all.  
\- Lthyy


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. Sorry this is posted so late today.  
I felt super sick this morning, and then had work til 9pm, and between taking care of my puppy, dinner, and showering, I am just getting around to doing my pre-post read through of this chapter.  
Also, I just realized I didn't tag Lan Fan! Because I am a heathen apparently!  
I hope y'all enjoy this chapter. I don't have too much to say about it.

“I was thinking we could visit the Hughes’,” Al said. Ed shrugged.

“So long as we stop by the market. I had wanted to get more thyme, today,” Ed said. Al shot him a look, but they got ready to head out.

Between the two of them, there is no such thing as getting ready quickly.

Ed has to reapply his covers, reattach his prosthetic's, lace up his boot, and do up the binding that holds his right crutch to his upper arm, shoulder, and side.

Al double checks his small bag of emergency medications and magical medicinal’s, before covering himself in his usual outdoor attire. He had tinted glasses for the light sensitivity, his filtering breathing mask to help with allergens, and wore long sleeves all of the time just in case his skin came into contact with something that his body now disagrees with. _Side effects, side effects,_ Ed’s mind provided as they stepped into the afternoon light.

“Let’s walk,” Ed said. Al nodded.

“For what spell, anyways?” Al asked after a beat.

“Huh?”

“The thyme?”

“Just another purification charm,” Ed said, with a shrug. Al’s eyes narrowed, and Ed looked away.

“For what?”

“The air. For scents.” One of Al’s triggers he struggled with during the day. One of the reasons his brother, his happy, outgoing, brother, avoided others. People seemed to grasp his other sensitivities – but _smells_ were everywhere and on everything and nearly everybody used them for something.

“You don’t have to,” Al said. They turned right, towards the market, though, and not left towards the Hughes’ place.

“I do,” Ed said. They were covered in each other’s charms. Things that they never would’ve done for themselves, but because Al was his brother, and he was Al’s, they did for each other.

Alphonse, to his benefit, was a lot better at accepting the help than Edward.

“Besides,” Ed said, twisting his crutches away from Al to bump their shoulders together with ease, “I know you want to see Mei.”

Al’s skin turned the best shade of pink where it peaked out from above his mask. “Ed,” he whined, “please just – just _drop it_.” Ed laughed, and grinned at his brother.

“Older brother’s right to tease is not something you will ever get to take from me, Al,” he said. Al made a defeated noise, and trudged a few steps ahead of him. Ed laughed. “_Especially_ when you get all pouty about it.”

“I am not _pouting_,” Al said, spinning back to look at Ed. More of his face was pink, edging around his glasses, and onto his ears, which only served to fuel Ed’s snickering.

“Sure you aren’t.”

“Besides,” Al said, walking backwards, and giving Ed a glare, “if you’re still teasing me when we get there, Mei will kick your ass, and I won’t even have to help her.”

“Like you could touch me,” Ed decided to latch onto instead. Because he and Al were fairly equally matched in a spar, especially if Ed fought dirty. And while Ed had never sparred with Mei before, he _had_ seen Mei beat Al in a fight, and that didn’t generally mean good things for Ed. Al rolled his eyes, and turned back around; Ed took a few larger crutch-strides to easily put himself back at his brother’s side, before he matched his pace.

Al was one of very few people who didn’t slow down unnecessarily for Ed.

Ed liked it here: it was one of the few places in Central that was open enough he didn’t feel trapped, like his claws were sawed off. Ed _liked_ crowded spaces, and the feeling that he could get lost in them, but he didn’t like being _stuck_ in crowded places, dense homes and businesses and people all tripping over each other in their own front yards.

This part of Central was quieter, than once you hit city center. There was a park, nearby, that Ed liked to spend time at, and a moderate sized library. It was mostly small homes, occupied by younger couples and small families, and a handful of non-humans. He couldn’t quite remember where Ling’s place was, but it had been in this area, he was _certain_.

They only ever ended up in city center for two reasons: Al’s doctor, and the Hughes’ family.

Al had slowly placed all of the reasons they would need to go to the market, go through this part of the city, on Ed, with one, and only one exception.

A hole in the wall store from the outside, with an old wooden sign with wards carved around the store’s name, “_p·u·l·s·e_,” and a small hand written note next to the door that read, “Pay attention to your weird scents and don’t bring them in here – or else!”

Ed had been looking at what natural supplies he could collect from the nearby park, when he’d run into the annoying owner of _pulse_, who had been conducting a remarkably similar task. And she’d been rude, and interesting, and Ed had no impulse control, and had been, perhaps, just a little too curious about why she was collecting twigs and flowers and leaves, and carefully digging up sprouting plants' roots. Though really: it had been Mei’s mask.

_Like Al’s_. She had been the first person he’d seen out in Central with one.

And now, the two got on like overly excited puppies, while Ed was able to find anything he’d ever want to for spell and charm work in her store.

Mei poked her head out of the doorway, the hanging beads parting and draping around her small frame, at the same moment Ed and Al set foot onto the path that led to it. Ed had never been able to figure out how she just _knew_ that they were coming.

Well.

She _was_ a witch. A true one. It was probably some spell that Ed would never be able to grasp, even if he tried. He scowled. It was _probably_ a simple spell that non witches couldn’t grasp, and witches mocked them for, for being unable to understand.

Ed resented witches magic, resented that they could conjure and cast without explanation. Kitchen magic was _work_. Witches were –

Mei waved from the doorway and called out, “Hello Al and little one!” before cackling as she darted back into her store, the beads tinkling against each other. Ed made a disgruntled noise and added it to the list of reasons why someday, he would absolutely _destroy_ Mei.

Al hummed in sympathy, gave Ed’s shoulder a quick pat, before he rushed ahead to enter the store.

Ed used his shoulder to part the beads as he stepped into the dim lighting. “Oh Wicked Witch,” he trilled out, as Al pulled off his glasses, “I brought over your friend for you to eat.”

“Hey,” Al snipped quietly, “don’t say that like you’re my owner. Or worse, my –”

“Your dad,” Ed finished in time with Al. For a moment they were both quiet, before they snickered. _They_ could joke about it now. Nobody else, though. Nobody else could join in. Al pulled off his mask and set it beside his glasses on the entry table and started to pull off his gloves.

Mei stepped out of one of the isles and leaned on the counter-top in front of her, effortlessly missing every fragile object she had placed on it, and smiled at them. “Hello, my dearest Al, how are you doing today?” she asked, tilting her head to the side and placing her cheek on her palm. Ed rolled his eyes.

“Have fun,” he said, before moving toward the back of the shop, where she kept what he was looking for.

“Oh, we will, little one!” she cooed. He let go of his crutch to grab the nearest not fragile looking thing he could find – a book – and chuck it at her. There was no noise of it hitting her or falling or being caught, just more of her cackling again. Ed had seen her use a glowing blue spell to catch and move things with no effort before, so he didn’t even question it, just shook his head and kept moving. _Witches_.

Mei’s greenhouse was possibly Ed’s favourite part of the store. _Favourite_ part of the city. Witches magic had allowed her to carefully preserve and bring down dozens of her plants from where she used to live in Xing, and Ed had been _delighted_ the first time he had seen plants that were significantly better catalysts than their Amestrian counterparts for some of the spells, charms, and potions he wanted to do. Plants for spell work was the only thing he and Mei could have an actual conversation about. She had been startled and excited by Ed’s knowledge of her plants the first time he’d come through, and had jokingly offered to “make him a real witch.” Ed was pretty sure it didn’t work like that. But witches were strange and often antisocial people, so Ed wasn’t actually _entirely sure_ that it didn’t work like that. He declined her offer all the same. He could do anything he needed with just his kitchen magic. And he was good at it too.

He had plucked three sprigs, and two different leaves, that he wanted, when movement caught his eye, and he spun towards it, every attack instinct Ed had on high alert.

A person stood there in all black, staring at him with unimpressed eyes, even if their stance said they were startled by his reaction. They stared at each other for several moments before they picked up a potted plant in front of them and said, “Do you know what this is?”

Ed forced his body to relax, then looked at the plant and tipped his head to the side. “It looks like…” he trailed off, eyes flicking up to their face, and then back to the plant, before he made his way cautiously closer to the other and their plant. “Related to chamomile,” he said quietly, looking at the bulbs, and the leaves. “Definitely a variant though. I think I recognize it from…” he trailed off and closed his eyes as he tried to remember.

He found the paragraph in his head, and then worked backwards from there; it had been in chapter… five… of a gray book with purple binding he’d read at the library. Ed frowned. Mei had enough books on plants and their magical uses, he had been hoping he’d gotten it here. “There’s a book in the reference section of the library on the north side of Central that has a whole chapter on different plants from the matricaria subfamily,” Ed said. The person was watching him, body having fallen into a more neutral position. Like they no longer viewed Ed as a threat.

“I was only –”

“Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan Faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan!” Mei sung, as she spun into the greenhouse. “I didn’t know you were here!” she said with the biggest grin. Mei swept in and gave Lan Fan a tight hug, which Lan Fan received, but didn’t reciprocate. Lan Fan looked uncomfortable, which was the closest thing to an emotion Ed had been able to read on them since he’d been alerted to their presence.

Mei picked up Lan Fan’s plant and made a happy little noise, bouncing on her toes. “Oh! You brought it! Thank you!!” she said, swirling towards the rooms exit with the plant in hand, before she stopped, and spun dramatically back to look at them. She pointed at Ed. “Lan Fan, this is Edward. He’s a regular that I like to talk magic and plants with. He’s also small and easy to tease. Now play nice!” she said, before darting out of the room with her bell laughter that Ed swore hid her feral tendencies.

Ed’s fingers twitched, and he scowled. He would _never_ win with her. He didn’t understand how Al could tolerate her. He looked back to Lan Fan who was watching him and – and _smiling_.

“Don’t let her get to your head,” Lan Fan said. “She’s been like that since we were children.” Ed puffed out a breath of air, letting the frustration dissipate like smoke.

“She gets along with my brother, which is about all I ask of people,” Ed replied, before glancing back at the plants he had left sitting on the greenhouse table. He still had a handful more he wanted to grab, before he would stop, because plants for magic could become obnoxiously expensive if he wasn’t careful.

Lan Fan nodded. He didn’t know what else to say to them, now that the plant was gone, and Mei was gone as well.

“Are you a witch, then?” Lan Fan asked as he carefully plucked another stem. He glanced at them, watching him critically, and looked back to his plants.

“No,” he said. “My brother and I just use kitchen magic.” He _hated_ saying it like that. But that was what witches, especially, thought of the type of magic he and Al used. _Used_, was the important word here. They could _use_ magical things, but they didn’t _have_ magic inherent to them. Anybody could throw together a healing potion, or a protection charm, or an explosive spell, if they knew the right runes and plants and catalysts, sprinkled in the right words. Most people couldn’t catch a book with a thought or a wave of a hand. “Are you a…” he trailed off and looked at them.

“I am not a witch,” they said with a shrug. “When I was little, I was told I had the gift, but I could never use it like Mei can.” They looked unaffected by this. “Besides, I have a different purpose to serve.”

“A different purpose?” he asked as he gathered his plants into one of the paper wraps Mei left in the back to make bringing them up front easier.

“I assume you’ll find out,” they said. Ed looked up at that, but they were already gone. Ed stared at the empty room. With no Lan Fan, no Mei, and no small plant, he wasn’t even certain he hadn’t made up the entire interaction, and that sent shivers down his spine.

He made his way back to the front of the store, where he couldn’t decide if it was relieving or not that the plant was sitting on Mei’s counter.

“Hey, brother,” Al said. “You find everything you were looking for?”

“Yeah. You have fun chatting with Mei?”

Al rolled his eyes. “Yes, Edward.”

“Lots of fun!” Mei agreed, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Al’s cheek, who sputtered in return. It was Ed's turn to roll his eyes. “Right! Now show me what all you’re paying for today.”

They exited Mei’s shop, with Edward’s wallet substantially emptier.

“So,” Ed said.

“Not a word,” Al said, doing his best to glare at him through his glasses. Ed laughed, head tipped back. “To the Hughe’s?” Al asked, ignoring him.

“Mind if we bus there?”

“Of course not.”

“Lead on, little brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go!  
And to Maes Hughes house they shall now go!  
Lan Fan is non-binary in this and uses they/them/their pronouns.  
Thanks for reading, for any comments, any kudos, and so on and so forth. Always love it when folks stop on by! <3  
Love y'all.  
\- Lthyy


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a little later than I anticipated.  
Had a fever, sprained my ankle and fell down the stairs, got to go to urgent care, which took three hours, and I have worked every day this week!  
And when I was editing this last night, I got DISTRACTED by other fandom nonsense and impulsively spent several hours drawing Good Omens fan art for myself and a friend.  
ANYWAYS.  
This chapter wanted to fight me. I am not fully happy with it but. It's okay. It needed to be posted anyways. The story needs to keep going.  
Also, it's fucking important to me that Ed has a happy family. Also Maes is alive, fight me.

Elicia crossed her arms and stared up at Edward with determination in her eyes. “_I_ want to go and play at the park,” she repeated. Ed looked helpless over to her parents, who were, watching the two of them, amused.

“Eli,” he said, as he scrambled to come up with something.

“Come on, Eli,” Al cut in, “what if we went and played outback ‘til supper? That sound good?” For a moment, Ed didn’t think she’d take the bait, but then rolled forward onto her toes, face lighting up as she nodded.

“Okay!” She skipped across the room towards Al, and then turned on her heal to stare at Ed. “You’re coming too, right Ed?”

“Of course. I’ll be out in just a minute.”

“Come on, Elicia, let’s go,” Al said, offering her his hand and all of the patience in the world.

Edward sagged as they left the room. “Surely,” he said, looking at Maes and Gracia, arm in arm, “Al and I weren’t that bad when we were children.”

Gracia just smiled at him, but Maes laughed. “From what I hear tell, you two were _worse_,” Maes said, separating from his wife to let her walk back towards the kitchen. Maes pulled out one of the chairs from the table and straddled it to look at Ed, from where was sprawled across two chairs, right foot propped against one, one arm flopped over the back of the chair he sat in, and the other rested in his lap. “But you get the worst of it.”

“I do?”

Maes raised his fingers to quote, “Big brother’s boundaries are meant to be tested.”

Ed felt himself turn pink. “Ah, well…” he rubbed his cheek against his shoulder, like it would hide his embarrassment. “She still has several years to get up to shit,” he said.

“And with you two teaching her all that kitchen magic, I know she will,” Maes said, good-naturedly.

“You still don’t mind, right?”

“Ed,” Maes said. He tipped his head to the side, and his glasses glinted. Ed always thought he would be intimidating if he ever wanted to try and be. “I already told you – stop worrying about it. There’s no one I’d rather teach her than you two. _Maybe_ Roy, but he’s too flashy. You and Al are just _worried_ about her.”

Ed pursed his mouth. The Hughes’ weren’t _family_, the same way that Winry and Gran’ weren’t _family_, which was to say, they _absolutely were_ Family, and Elicia was their little sister who they wanted to show the world – and protect her from it. But, with how badly he had failed while growing up, with how many _horrifying_ side effects his choices and decisions had had, sometimes, oftentimes, Ed didn’t understand why Gracia and Maes could ever trust Ed around their child.

“Now go join them,” Gracia said. “Supper will be ready soon.” Ed pushed his way to his feet, using a single crutch with his good arm to give him a little extra stability as he walked towards the backdoor, and looked out at Al and Elicia.

Al was crouched in front of Elicia with a flower resting in his palm. Elicia bounced in front of him as he traced along and over the petals, before blowing on the flower and giving it a light toss in the air, where it hovered for an excited Elicia to inspect.

It was a simple spell that Ed and Al had learned as young children. Of course, now, it had no useful purpose in their lives, but. Elicia loved the simplest charms. Had far more appreciation for the kitchen magic to make petals float, than the protection woven into her scarf that he and Al had spent ages working on and perfecting for her.

“Kid,” Maes said. Ed stiffened, and looked over at him. Maes waved his hand. “Go.” Ed opened the door and went outback.

“Ed!” Elicia said. She bounced up and down. “Show me a trick!”

He easily made his way over to her. “What would you like to see?”

Elicia tilted her head one way, and then back, before she lit up and said, “Can you grow me something?”

“I could,” he said, before placing himself on the ground next to his siblings. “Or, I could show you how to do it yourself.”

Growing a single flower was a moderately difficult spell, mostly, in that it required more prep work than was worth it for a flower.

But Al went and found the herbs they’d need for the spell, while Ed carved half of the runework into ground, and had Elicia mirror the shapes.

Al placed the herbs on each point, and Ed pointed to each one to explain, “You need a sacrifice for growth, something to encourage life, and a creative inspiration. Remember, it doesn’t _have_ to be these three, this is just what we’ve used this time. You just need –”

“Growth, encouragement, and inspiration, I got it,” she said.

“Then give me your hand.”

He and Al had figured this out on their own. Some people could, with enough tries, or with enough obsession, the reaching out to tug on the magic the rested in the shapes, in the earth, in the herbs. Like tugging on the end of a scarf and unraveling the whole thing. Elicia needed the end handed to her though, so Ed found the thread, primed it, and placed it in her hand.

She had gotten pretty good at the tug part, though.

Elicia squealed at the small, yellow, flower that she had grown, and bounced happily next to Ed.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!” she said.

Ed shrugged. “You did the spell, not me.”

The rest of their afternoon is comfortable and happy and _long_. Ed needed sleep. Needed to catch up on the sleep he hadn’t gotten last night while he was at Ling’s. But he didn’t want to sleep. He didn’t want to dream. It was too nice a day, he didn’t want it to end.

“It’s getting late,” Al said, looking out the window. It’s something Al worries about more than Ed. When they’re at home, Al _mostly_ lets Ed do as he pleases, which was some sort of exchange for Ed following Al’s cues while they’re with the Hughes’.

“We should probably be heading home,” Ed agreed.

“Of course, of course,” Maes said. He was leaned back comfortable in his chair. Gracia had already headed upstairs with Elicia to help her get ready for bed. “Wouldn’t want to keep you out too late. City center can be a dangerous once it gets late,” he said. Maes has said that phrase before, and Ed looked at him for a moment.

Maes understood the strange combination of concerned and ignorant you had to be of the world better than anybody else Ed knew. He understood _consequence_ in a way that most didn’t.

They walked to the door, Maes stopping by the base of the stairs to call up: “Gracia?”

“Thank you, as always,” Ed said, leaning against the wall, arms and crutches crossed in front of him as Al started to put his armor back on, protect and hide himself from the outside world.

“You know you’re always welcome,” Maes said. “That’s _why_ we invited you to stay in the city with us. You’re always welcome to come over. Whenever you need anything.”

“We’ll let you know,” Ed said, dipping his head. Maes _watched_ him. It was a specific look, somewhere between uncertain and knowing and _doubtful_. Gracia came down the stairs, and walked over to them.

“Thank you for coming over,” Gracia said, soft upturns of her lips genuine and gentle. “Elicia loves when you come and visit her, and we love to have the company.”

“Of course!” Al said, beaming in the best manner he could through his mask. He wasn’t wearing his glasses – it was dark enough out now that he would be okay – so at least his eyes crinkled. Gracia held out her arms, and Al quickly moved to return the hug. Ed hung back for a moment, but also moved forward.

“Thank you for having us,” he said, as he backed away from Gracia and how her arms were wrapped around him and his crutches.

“It’s always lovely to have you two over,” Gracia said.

“Actually,” Maes said, as Ed started to push open the door with his back, “next Tuesday we’re having a few guests over dinner, and you are more than welcome to join us. You’ll even know a few of them.”

“Thank you. That sounds –”

“Is _Roy_ going to be there?” Ed asked. Gracia’s lip twitched, and Maes looked absolutely _delighted_. Maes, for whichever reason, seemed to find Ed’s distaste for his friend to be fantastic. Ed, just thought that Roy was an obnoxious hot head. Not that he _really_ had any room to judge, since he’d only met him _three times_, and one of those times had been when Ed was _fourteen_.

“Of _course_ Roy is going to be there, Edward.”

Ed groaned. Maes desire for the two of them to be friends was mystifying and made Ed want to be Roy’s friend even _less_. Last time, Maes had locked them in a room together. Ed had no desire to find out what his plan was for this dinner.

Of course, he and Al would still go, because family was family, even with weird ulterior motives.

“Good night, Maes, Gracia,” Ed said, as he and Al stepped outside.

“Take care of yourselves!” Gracia called after them, where she was embracing her husband on their front doorstep.

The evening sun rested against their backs as they made their way back towards the bus stop. Ed rolled his shoulders against the heaviness that rested on his shoulders, of his mind dragging him back towards dreaming.

He was _tired_. Of _course_ he was tired. After last night, after being out all day, after entertaining a child, exhaustion crept into his joints, unignorable. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t fall asleep on the bus. If he was lucky, he’d be exhausted enough once they got home that his mind would remain empty.

The bus pulled up, and they carefully made their way onto it, Ed hooking his left crutch behind his seat, and placed most of the length of the right one under his leg. Silence held, until it didn’t.

“Edward?” Al said, nudging him.

“Hm?”

“Are you… you look…”

Ed shook his head. “Just tired. That’s all,” he said.

He _knows_ he’ll dream tonight, though. He always knows. It’s a feeling in his chest and his back, prickling through his whole body like fire and wind, swept together, to burn and burn and _burn_.

“That’s why you shouldn’t go… exploring at night,” Al said. Ed’s lip quirked at his phrasing.

“Exploring. Right.” Al rolled his eyes.

“You know what I mean,” he said with a flippant wave. “At least you and Winry had sensible timing for meals.”

“It’s not like I slept any better, then,” Ed said.

Al gave him a sorry look, and Ed wished he could take the words back. “You’re still having nightmares?” Al asked.

“Sometimes.” He shrugged. Al watched him, then looked away. “_Alphonse_.”

“You _said_ you’d tell me.”

“And here I am, telling you.”

“That’s _not_ what we agreed on.”

“I’m _trying_,” Ed said. It might be a lie. It was probably a lie. He doesn’t want to place anythingg stressful or burdensome on Al, even though Al wanted him to. Told him.

_My fault_, Ed thought. He couldn’t put _more_ on him. Especially not his stupid dreams.

“I’m trying,” he repeated, trying to breathe it into reality.

“I was there,” Al said.

Ed pursed his lips. “Let’s not talk about this.”

The rest of the way home was quiet, and uncomfortable.

Ed laid on his bed, and listened to Al fuss around with papers and books, as he prepared to stay up until Ed fell asleep. It was something Al did, on occasion. When he became worried enough that he wanted to be sure that Ed went to sleep instead of slipping out of the house in the middle of the night.

“Goodnight, Alphonse.” He took a deep breath that sounded suspiciously like a sigh.

“Goodnight, Edward.”

He dreams, but he knew he would. Knowing does not make dreaming any better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Edward dreams.  
I hope you liked that. There's going to be more Ling (and more Greed) very soon. Very, very, soon. Just like. Important world building shit that needs to happen upfront, and weird background information that needs to be dropped so that it can be referenced 50 pages form now.  
Thanks for any comments, kudos, or otherwise! I love having folks stop by!  
Love y'all.  
\- Lthyy


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter kind of makes me really happy in a very specific way.  
I have a lot of Feelings about Ed being cared about.  
Today, I got to freak out because a friend of mine drew some art of my story and I literally fucking can't even. I am so. Fucking. Flattered. Like. What the fuck. It's so great.  
Also: Ling fucking loves food. I can't completely take that from him. I can't.  
I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Ed cradled his cup of coffee in front of his face and let the steam warm him. Al’s coffee sat next to him, abandoned for the time.

“You look hardly alive.” Ed scrunched up his face, as he tried to place the voice. He looked up.

Ling stood there, almost unsure, cup of something in his hand, bag full of – _vegetables?_ – something over his shoulder. “You’re one to talk,” Ed countered, which knocked a smile onto Ling’s face. “Not following me again, are you?”

Ling looked surprised, and then laughed, placing himself loftily in the seat without Al’s coffee in front of it, setting his bag by their feet. “No, not following you this time. I simply enjoy coming here,” Ling said. “I know all of the waitstaff, and they have incredible tea.”

“I was wondering,” Ed said, letting go of his cup to gesture vaguely at Ling’s, “why you even have a drink. You can’t really drink it.” Ling shrugged, like people asked him this all of the time.

“I _could_ drink it. It just tastes bad. And tea, mind you, tastes better than most things. But really, I just enjoy the way it smells, now,” Ling said. Ed felt his face twitch towards a smile. A vampire ordering tea for the _smell_.

“And what tea do you prefer to _smell_?” he asked. Ling’s face lit up.

“Most black tea’s, any tea _with_ lavender in it, but plain lavender tea is too strong. Chamomile is nice, and one of the more tolerable flavors,” he said, but still scowled a little as he said it. “And anything is better than mint tea. I thought mint tea was strong before. Now, it’s overwhelming.”

“Fascinating,” Ed breathed. They watched each other for a moment, before Ling’s eyes flicked over Ed’s shoulder.

“So,” Al said, sliding into his chair, “who’s the stranger, Edward?”

Ling tipped his head to the side and looked back at Ed. “Edward?” he asked. Ed shook his head in disbelief.

“Full name. Al, this is Ling from the other night,” Ed said. Al looked between the two of them, and then narrowed his eyes on Ling.

“Oh, the vampire who thralled my brother while he was walking home alone at night,” Al said. Ling gave Al the bemused smile that seemed to come to him so naturally. Ed wanted to trace the lines of his lips, and the way it dented his cheeks. _No_, he told himself, _stop that_.

“I was more than willing to let him go home,” Ling said with a casual shrug. “He wanted to talk – and then _he_ offered to come over, long after I assumed nothing was going to happen.”

Al sighed. “That’s not surprising.”

“_Al_.”

“What? You are impressively impulsive, brother dear,” Al said.

Ed groaned. “Alphonse. Please.”

“Alphonse?” Ling interjected. Ed and Al both looked at him.

“Yes?” Al asked, slow and confused.

“Do you know somebody named Mei?” Ling asked. Al blinked. Ed’s eyes narrowed.

“Yeah. She owns –”

“_Pulse_,” Ling finished. He looked up, an almost wry expression on his lips. “Mei is my, ah… sister? Wrong generations, but we _are_ technically related. She talks about you.” For a long moment, they were all very quiet, and then Ed was _laughing_, because of _course_ Ling was attached to Mei, why _wouldn’t_ the witch be secretly tied to everybody in his life. Ed shook his head and placed his forehead down on the counter next to his coffee. Ling made a small, curious, noise.

“Brother and Mei get along like two territorial crabs,” Al said. Ed’s groan and Ling’s startled laugh harmonized together.

“_She_ thinks she’s better than everybody,” Ed said.

“She doesn’t really,” Al said.

“Sure. Sure. But _you_ like her. Of course you say that,” Ed said, turning his head to look at his brother. He wasn’t wearing his mask, he didn’t usually while they were out eating or drinking, so the light blush that sat on his cheeks was noticeable and real and there.

“Leave it, Ed,” Al said, though he didn’t sound truly bothered. Ed shrugged and sat back up, glancing over to Ling who looked –

Fond. Utterly fond. Like this was one of the most endearing things that he’d ever seen. Ed stared at him, and Ling stared back.

Al coughed.

“So, what are you doing out this evening?” Al asked. “Plan on thralling more random strangers?”

Ling tipped his head to the side, long hair spilling over his shoulder. “You must know that that isn’t an uncommon behavior for vampires,” Ling said, swirling his full cup of tea in its mug. “But no. I had offered to pick up some supplies from the store that my housemates needed, and decided to stop here on my way home. Darius and Heinkel, from what I hear, make fine food, if you wanted to come over for dinner.”

Ed wanted to say yes, because cooking is _obnoxious_, and also because Ling is interesting and inviting them over. He looked to Al though, and waited.

“No contingencies? Because I’m really not in the mood,” Al said.

“Of course not,” Ling said. “You’d be our guests.”

Al’s eyes narrowed, but he downed his coffee. Ed thought it _might_ be an intimidation attempt. “Sure,” Al said. “We’d love to.”

“Lovely!” Ling said. “Are you ready to leave now? I should be heading back with the groceries.”

“Just give me a moment.” Ed pushed back from the counter and grabbed his right crutch, and started to bind it back to his side.

“Why do you do that?” Ling asked. Ed looked at him.

“Why do I do _what_?”

Ling hesitated, like he was trying to find the right question. “Use two crutches, if you can walk with one? Especially, since the extra binding is extra work.”

Ed paused in doing up the buckles and weighed his answer. He looked over at Al who was pointedly look away, pulling on his gloves, though absolutely listening. “I prefer it,” Ed said. “I have better balance, and better reaction times. There’s more places to hide weapons – and it’s easier to fight with both. And I have control of my shoulder, so the binding of the crutch to me means I have an extension, without giving up the use of my good hand to have an extension.” He gave Ling’s leg a gentle whack with the crutch to show off that point. “It makes more sense for my life,” he finished with a shrug.

Ling hummed and nodded, but he was no longer watching Ed, his eyes trained on Al, who now had his mask on, and was fidgeting with his glasses like he was deciding if it was dark enough yet, to go outside without them on.

“Were you two –”

“Yes,” Al cut him off.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ed said at the same time.

Ling looked between them, before he nodded. “Let’s be on our way, then?”

“Lead the way,” Ed said. Ling shoved his hands in his pockets, and started walking towards the door. Ed didn’t follow. “Wait, you forgot your –”

“Oh, _you’ll_ grab it for me, won’t you?” Ling asked, looking back at Ed with mirth in his eyes. “Unless you don’t think you can.”

Ed’s mouth tried, desperately, to form words. Al barked out a single laugh, as Ed glared at Ling. “_Fuck_ you, of course I can carry your _stupid_ grocery bag, you, you –” _idiot-asshole-cute-frustrating-attractive-dick who just issued me a fucking **challenge**_. Ed reached down and grabbed the bag, yanking it over his shoulder, before sliding his left arm back into the crutch.

“Come on now,” Ling said. “We don’t –”

“Do you ever shut up?” Ed asked. Al was shaking his head. Ed wished he could read the feeling that was hidden under his brother’s mask.

Ling gave Ed that grin again, as they stepped into the evening light, eyes and teeth glinting as Ling looked _utterly pleased_ with himself. “Not generally.”

It doesn’t take very long to get back to Ling’s.

Light shone out every window, and as Ed swung himself up the steps, he could hear voices.

Ling opened the door and said, “I brought over guests for dinner.”

A man scowled over at them. “Of _course_, you did, princeling, you don’t cook the food.”

The man next to him didn’t look up from where he had playing cards sprawled in front of him. “And who are our guests?” he asked.

Greed was sitting with them, lounged back onto the rooms couch, eyes locked on Ed, who stared back, caught.

“This is Alphonse and Edward,” Ling said. “They’re friends of my sister. This is Heinkel, Darius, and Greed.”

“Greed?” Al asked.

Heinkel groaned, but still, did not look up from his cards. “Don’t get him started,” he said. Greed looked away from Ed to glare at him.

“Fuck off, Heinkel.”

“He’s _really_ quite charming when he wants to be,” Ling said, and Darius laughed.

“I think you might have a strange concept of _charm_,” Darius said.

“You do, you know,” Greed said, crossing his arms, self-important, smile, or smirk, or scowl, or _something_, draped across his face with ease, as he leaned back. “My siblings and I all like to embody what we desire, and I like to take and have _whatever_ I want.”

“Sex, money, and so on,” Heinkel said, giving a noncommittal, vague, hand wave. “We know.”

Darius leaned over, and moved one of Heinkel’s cards, and Heinkel gave him a small smile. “Now, where are the groceries, Ling?” Darius asked.

“Oh, Ed carried them here for me,” Ling said, giving Ed his obnoxious, sky bright, smile.

“_Oh_, don’t let him do that to you,” Greed said, rubbing his face, like _he_ had regrets, “he’ll never carry anything of his own around you ever again.”

Heinkel and Darius quipped back and forth as they prepared food, the rest of them sat around the coffee table. “How long have you all lived together?” Al asked. “You obviously don’t all share lifespans.”

“I joined Greed and his partner, Bido, around thirty years ago,” Ling said. “Greed had known Heinkel and Darius for…” Ling tipped his head to the side and looked at Greed. They weren’t touching. Ed wondered if it was Al. Or maybe him, though they certainly hadn’t had a problem last time Ed was over. Or perhaps, they just weren’t very physically affectionate.

“Fifteen years, though they moved in with us five years ago.”

“There’s been a couple others, too, though nobody who has stayed for long,” Ling said with a shrug.

“They can’t live the lifestyle,” Greed said.

“Don’t let him start,” Heinkel called over from the kitchen. Ling made a noise, that Ed would _almost_ call a snort. Almost. It was a little too refined for that.

“Greed is _very_ about his lifestyle,” Ling said, smiling at Greed in a way that made Ed feel guilty about finding Ling attractive. It was intimate. Greed shook his head.

“You all just can’t appreciate living for the finer things in life,” Greed said. “My old minions were much better than you lot.” He doesn’t say it like it’s true. Greed’s eyes landed on Ed again.

“What’s the obsession for, anyways?” Ed asked.

“Having pleasurable things, having pleasurable people, doing things that feel pleasurable,” he said. “What isn’t to want about that?” Ed _needs_ them to stop staring at each other. Now.

“Dinner’s ready.”

_Thank fuck_.

Greed disappeared during dinner, though Ling stayed and spoke with them all as they ate. It’s obvious to Ed that they care about each other. Obvious that perhaps, Ling has only known them for a few years, and that Heinkel and Darius will only be in Ling’s for a single lifetime, however long or short that may be, but they are a weird little family. Two vampires, and two werefolk, all under a roof, joined tonight by two humans for a simple dinner.

It’s _nice_.

Pleasurable, perhaps, to take Greed’s word.

There’s no wind in the air as he and Al make their way towards their apartment. Ed’s crutch steps echo, metallic and hollow, down the street. Al had his hands tucked in his pockets; head tipped back to look at the sky. He looked like he was waiting to say something.

Ed waited.

“Do you like them?” Al asked.

“They’re together.”

“You know non-humans don’t usually care about that,” Al said. Ed scowled at him.

He knew that. He knew that long-lived non-humans often took human lovers, in addition to their non-human partner, if they had one. Had met people on both sides of those relationships before. Knew it was exceedingly common. “I hardly know them,” Ed said.

Al repeated, “Do you like them?”

Did he?

“I find them… attractive,” Ed said. He could feel his face heat up. Al unlocked the door, and Ed bumped it open with his hip. “I don’t know,” he added. “Weren’t you overly concerned about Ling thralling me earlier? Even though I can just break out?”

“I’m allowed to be just as protective of you as you are of me,” Al said.

Ed swallowed. Al was _always_ more mature than he was. “Al,” Ed started.

They stood just inside the doorway. “Yes?”

He doesn’t really have anything to say. Doesn’t really know how to manage together the emotions and feelings and _trauma_ that he has. Al always waits for him, though. Waits for Ed to figure it out. “Let’s go to bed,” he said instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the concept of Al chugging coffee as an intimidation technique.  
I really wanted to try and give the start of the concept of the different shapes of their triad - or what will be their triad, I suppose. Triad's are four relationships, all together, and the was AxB, AxC, BxC, and AxBxC interact and flirt are all different.  
This chapter is just kinda... sweet, I guess.  
I'm going to bed.  
Thanks for stopping by! My heart loves comments and kudos if you wanna leave any.  
Love y'all!  
\- Lthyy


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm fucking exhausted and I need to sleep.  
I think I'm happy with this chapter. I'm also tired. And having anxiety.  
Content warning for Ed having some trauma and depression.  
I didn't really edit the last chapter to my complete satisfaction, so, I am probably going to go back and edit that at some point. But right now, I need sleep.  
Enjoy.

Edward dreams of flying. He has been since he was nine years old.

It’s a changing but recurring dream, nonspecific in the way that dreams are, but horrifyingly real in a way that dreams aren’t. Like an extra sense, that he only has when the world is dark and his mind is too bright. He dreams of flying – of suffocating and crashing and burning in an endless sky. It is _not_ a pleasant dream.

But they _aren’t_ nightmares. They’re not like the warped memories of his parents, they’re not like the fuzzy pain of his and Al’s poor life choices, they’re not scary or dark or bad.

They’re painful. Dreaming is _painful_.

And then: he wakes up.

And Ed is hardly Ed when he wakes up, lost in a daze, wind still imprinted in his eyes. He never feels real, afterwards, never can understand how his body connects to his mind, how to move all of his different pieces.

It’s dark out. The sun rises. Ed sat in bed and stared out the window until their bedroom was swathed in early morning light.

"Ed?" Al asked, voice full of sleep, muffled from where he was still buried in his pillow.

For a moment, Ed feels nine again. Remembers waking up too heavy from dreams in their teachers’ loft, remembers waiting for Al to wake up and talk him back into himself, to pester him into bickering over nothing. Ed remembers Al before, a child, unencumbered by Ed's mistakes.

_No_.

Their mistakes. Al kept on reminding him, _I was there! __I could’ve said no! I could’ve not come! You don’t control me!_

It took Ed too long to respond. Too long to figure out how words fit in his mouth. "Mornin'," he said.

He watched as Al sat up, and then covered his eyes from the window light with a pale blue sheet. "You been awake long?" Al asked.

"No," Ed lied. Ed started to go through the motions of putting his prosthetic leg back on.

"Think you have enough energy to make us breakfast?" Al asked.

"I made breakfast yesterday."

"So?"

Ed leaned over the edge of his bed to grab his left crutch, before he rocked himself up and onto his feet.

Moving helped reality sink back into his sun kissed skin, and his hair brushed against his shoulders in reassuring, alive, patterns, as he made his way to the window to pull the curtains shut and drench their bedroom in shadow.

Al dropped the sheet from his face.

"Let me see what we have," Ed said, making his way through the front entry, leaving their bedroom door open, and into the small kitchen. He opened the fridge and grimaced. "We still have half a dozen hard boiled eggs,” he called.

"Sure."

Ed made his way back into their room, balancing a few of the eggs between his fingers and the handle of his crutch. “Here,” he said meeting Al in the middle where he took half of what Ed had brought.

“Thanks.” Ed went back to his bed and stared at where light crept around the curtains. Maybe, he could go back to sleep. Try the day again in a few hours.

“How do you do that?” Al asked.

“Do what?”

“Sleep with your socks off. The ground is cold," Al said.

"I don't think about it that much," Ed said.

"Are you okay, brother?"

Ed thought, _this is when Al wants me to be honest_. Ed said, "I'm okay."

"Do you want me to stick around today?" Al asked. Ed tried to remember if Al had told him he was going somewhere. His mind was still fuzzy enough that he wasn't sure. "I'm going south with Mei for the day," Al said gently. Ed squeezed his eyes shut. They might have talked about it.

"Right," Ed said.

"Ed."

"Go have fun, Al."

“Are you sure?”

“_Al_.”

Al flung his hands up in defense and said, “Sorry, sorry!”

Ed cracked off pieces of the egg, as he righted his tired mind. Dreaming never felt like sleeping. Never felt like rest. “Actually, I wanted to stop by the library, anyways. There was a plant at Mei’s shop that I didn’t recognize.”

Al relaxed, like the concept of Ed leaving the house made everything better, even though Ed had a history of going out to avoid Al. Or sleeping. Or his problems. Maybe it had something to do with going out in the sun. Or going somewhere he liked. Doing something he enjoyed.

He’d keep it in mind for next time.

Ed got ready with Al, though he didn’t get ready to leave.

It took him an extra couple hours to make himself feel human enough to swing outside into the mid-afternoon. Ed went through the park and listened to the wind in the trees. The people talking, laughing. Walked the long way around, past the quieter homes, the people who ignored him as much as he ignored them, to the library.

Ed didn’t make his way straight to where he knew he’d find the book about matricaria. He wandered down the rows, let his knuckles brush against the spines of different books. Pulled out and reread chapters of his favorite books on kitchen magic, on the theory of magic for non-witches. He hesitated, looking at an older book that he had read excerpts from before, _An Encyclopedia of Non-human Variants_. It wasn’t a very politically correct book, possibly because of it’s age, but everything Ed had ever read from it had been true, as far as he was aware.

Ed shimmied the book off of the shelf with a little effort, and managed to tuck it between his crutch and his arm in such a way that wasn’t completely uncomfortable. Finding, _Common Plants and Their Uses_, was easy enough, and then he checked out, and was out the door with the books tucked in a bag, like no time had passed at all, even if the sun was now on the horizon, dipping lower, throwing colors into the sky.

He didn’t want to go home yet. Didn’t want to arrive and see Al shift from happy to worried. Or worse – arrive and have Al not be there. He _remembered_ recovering, in his sterile hospital room, and Al being non-responsive on machines, as they waited to see if removing the venom would take.

He forced himself to move, until his body wouldn’t anymore. Ed had only made his way back to the park, where he leaned against a tree, before he slid uncomfortably to the ground. The world was pale around him. He dropped his left crutch, and did his best to comfortably sprawl his bound one out. He pulled out one of the books he had checked out and stared at it. Tried to put and keep the words in order. His hand shook. He closed the book.

Some days, he couldn’t do it. He got like this.

Between everything they’d been through, between everything that had happened, between the nightmares that were too real because they were memories and the dreams that were too real because of how _desperately_ he wanted them, between every way that he had been hurt, and seen his brother hurt: sometimes, Ed got like this.

It was a haunting feeling, that started in his shoulders, too tired to move on his crutches. It spread into his good hand, too tired, or shaky, to hold a book, or write, before it squeezed his chests, billowed through his stomach, and bound his body to the ground. There’s no way to fight all-encompassing _depression_, other than to wait for another day. Because sometimes, there wasn’t any fighting this feeling, no matter how hard he tried.

So Ed sat.

Ed could still feel the dream rippling in his shoulders. He had flown through the skies of Resembool and destroyed it all. Burnt down their old house. Suffocated in the smoke. _Sometimes_, he wished he could burn down the home that had created he and his brother. And if he took the rest of Resembool with him, then _who cared_.

He leaned forward and managed to get himself into a position where he could tuck his face against his knee, pulled out his hair tie, and pushed his fingers through his hair. Ed breathed in the fresh air, and his mind couldn’t help but go back to Al. He had worn his breathing mask before, as a joke, and he remembered, how stuffy it was, how even fresh air felt a little bit choked. _His fault, his fault, his fault, his fault_–

Smoke boiled in Ed’s stomach and he swallowed the bile in his mouth. He was going to be sick. His mind was making him sick. _Lucky him_.

“Ed?” a voice called, and Ed grimaced, before slowly sitting up. It was darker out than he was expecting, dusk, the remainders of evening light framing a tall, fit, man, that Ed couldn’t quite place, for a moment.

_Oh_.

“Greed, right?” Edward said, and the vampire grinned, as dangerous and magnetic as he remembered, before he walked up to him.

“That’s my name,” Greed said.

They watched each other, Greed’s head tilted to the side in a way that made Ed wonder if Greed had gotten it from Ling, or if Ling had gotten it from Greed. He rubbed his arm where it met his prosthetic, between the bindings of his crutch, and looked away from Greed when the other frowned.

“You look like shit,” Greed said, factually, and that ripped a pained laugh from his mouth.

“Why _thanks_,” Ed mumbled, before curling back over, because if Greed already knew, then what was the point on putting on _any_ level of a farce?

“Something happen?” Greed asked.

“No.”

“Something you need?”

“Care to make my brain stop?” Ed asked before he could stop himself. He looked up to glare at Greed, who was just _watching him_, like Ed was _fascinating_. “Forget that. Pretend I didn’t say anything,” he snapped.

Greed was completely unaffected by Ed’s reaction, shifting his weight to one leg, and crossing his arms like he was making an important decision about something. Something that clearly involved Ed. It sparked the memory of the first night with Ling, watching the two of them push each other around with words and looks. Ed hated the part of him that _liked it_, but at least it was a distraction, right now.

“I could thrall you,” Greed said.

“What?”

Greed shrugged and looked away. “I could thrall you. Calm you down. Make whatever’s eating you feel unimportant, for a time. If you want,” Greed offered. Part of him wanted to jump on the offer, and part of Ed wanted to wallow in his misery.

And part of him wanted to know: “Why do you care?”

Greed shot him a look. “I think you’re interesting. And Ling clearly likes having you around. You’re in – _distress_ and it’s – And I can – I _want_ to help. So why not?” Greed said.

Ed watched him. Looked him over for hidden motives. And Ed does have Al's protection charms on him.

“How would we do that?” he asked.

“Are you expected home?” Greed asked. Ed shook his head. It’s not technically a lie. “Then come back to mine.”

Nobody’s in the common area when they get there. Ed could just hear a quiet conversation coming from one of the other rooms, but couldn’t make out any words. Greed walked through to one of the backrooms, opposite of where Ling’s room was, and Ed followed.

“Sit there,” Greed said, pointing at a comfortable looking lounge chair in his room. Ed was slow in his motions as he started to make himself comfortable, setting his bag on the ground, propping his crutch against the chair. He looked around the room and tried to take in Greed's space, but couldn't focus on it. The longer he waited, the more every single one of his nerves _screamed_ at him, telling him that this was a bad idea.

“What if –” he cut himself off. Greed froze, his confident movement abruptly stopping.

“We don’t have to,” he said.

“I know. It’s not,” Ed stopped, and made a face. “I _want_ to,” he said. Greed waited for him to say more. “It’s not the same,” he settled on.

“I guess it isn’t,” Greed said slowly. Ed sat down. “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

Greed’s hands landed on Ed’s temples. “Relax.”

“What are you –”

“Just relax,” Greed murmured, “try not to think about it.” And then the thrall hit him.

Even though Ed _knows_ the point of this is to let the thrall take over, instinct had him press back against it. It’s _startling_, how powerful Greed’s thrall is, compared to anything he had ever experienced before. It was different. It was different and he didn’t know why. Or understand why.

“Edward,” Greed said, “let go.”

His body was trembling with the effort of not letting Greed’s thrall take over, and Ed hoped he would remember what this was like, so he could ask Greed _why_ his thrall was so different from other vampires. Ed took a deep breath, and told himself, _it’s okay_, and then –

He let go.

_“There you go,”_ Greed said. Or thought. Ed wasn’t entirely sure. He was pretty sure he was floating. Comfortable and relaxed and warm. There’s nothing else, just the feeling wrapped around him. _“You could probably learn something from me,”_ Greed said to him after a moment.

Ed wasn’t sure he could actually respond while like this. Wasn’t sure how long he could even stay awake like this.

_“There’s nothing wrong with indulging in what you want.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter.  
Things are moving forward. They're happening. Slowly. Bit by bit.  
Thanks for stopping by! I always enjoy comments and kudos if you feel like leaving any.  
Love y'all!  
\- Lthyy


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! This is a slightly shorter chapter, but I really wanted it to end where it ends.  
I just got home from camping, and my puppy is sleeping, and really, I too need a fucking nap.  
According to my partner, their favourite part of this chapter is, "you write awkwardness way too well, it's not fair." Which to that I say, I am a chronically awkward person. I cannot fucking help it. That is my fucking LIFE.  
Unrelated to that, Ling says my favourite line, thus far, in my entire fucking fic, in this chapter. Can you guess what that is?  
Beneath is the author note I left before I went camping.  
Author note from 8/13:  
Hey folks!  
I'm camping with my puppy! Thanks to this, I probably won't update this fic til I get home on Friday.  
I was going to post two chapters (one today, and one queued for Thursday), but had unexpected computer problems, where my computer tried to do an auto-update, failed, restarted, and corrupted Every Single Document Saved To My Desktop.  
So, after some panic and crying, my mother who is substantially more tech savvy than me fixed the computer problems, and rescued my documents. But then I had to be out the door to go camping.  
Anyways.  
Love y'all! If I can figure out how to update from my phone from in the middle of the woods, I might. But if not. Figured anybody who cares should know.  
See y'all Friday. ❤  
\- Lthyy

At some point, Ed fell asleep.

Greed’s thrall was long gone, but he could still feel the relaxation in his body, pooling through his joints. His mind was sleep calm, but it also wasn’t fretting about anything. Ed rubbed his hand over his eyes and slowly sat up.

He’d been moved into a… _nest_, really, of blankets and pillows, with a thin mattress, completely enclosed by walls, and a thick curtain on one side. Ed stretched and enjoyed the way that being well rested wedged itself between his joints. He pushed open the curtain and blinked out at Greed’s room. Light peaked its way around the edges of the blinds in front of the window.

_Shit. Al is going to murder me._

His leg was a little sore where it was still hooked up to his prosthetic, but not bad. He’d put a little extra ointment on it once he was home, and he’d be more than fine. Ed looked around the room and verified that Greed wasn’t there, and found his crutches, jacket, shoes, and book bag had been placed next to the entrance to Greed’s – bed. Cave? Ed looked up, and around the small space, and saw both sides had hinges that the doors had been taken off of. _Was he sleeping in a closet?_ Ed huffed and shook his head.

He clambered out of Greed’s closet-bed, and stretched, using the wall to keep himself stable, something in his neck popping as he twisted. Ed slowly made himself presentable, grimacing through the process of having to tie both shoes – he usually left the shoe on his prosthetic on – but he would’ve been more bothered had Greed removed his prosthetic instead.

Greed’s room was a lot sparser than Ling’s. Smaller, too. A _lounge_ more than a bedroom: two comfortable chairs that didn’t match, a large plain dresser, a small desk, and a bookshelf. Ed thought about snooping but resigned himself to just ask another time, when staying longer than necessary didn’t equate to five new ways Al would destroy him. Ed braced himself for a second longer, and hoped, just maybe, he’d be able to slip out without bumping into anybody, before he made his way out of the room.

“No, no,” comes Ling’s voice, laughter bubbling behind the words.

Another deep voice replied, “Maybe, you’re just weird _and_ annoying.”

Ed can practically hear the smile in Ling’s voice, as he countered, “Because I’ve _never_ been called either of those things before.”

“I did. Just last –” the other – Darius, if Ed was remembering correctly – cut himself off as Ed walked into the room. Ling’s mouth made a tiny o, that was obnoxiously cute.

“You gonna stop staring at me like you’ve never seen a human before?” Ed asked. Ling grinned.

“Good morning Edward! It’s wonderful to see you again. I didn’t know you were here,” Ling said. His eyes flicked from Ed towards Greed’s room, and then back to Ed again, his head tipping to the side just a touch, strands of hair falling over his nose. Ed wasn’t quite sure what to say to him. “This is Darius,” Ling said when Ed took too long to fill in the silence.

“I remember,” Ed said, giving Darius a nod as a greeting that Darius returned.

“Heinkel isn’t nearly as much of a morning lover,” Ling continued, “and Greed’s out – fighting with his siblings, or something.” Ling gave a nonchalant shrug, but Ed thought he might look worried.

“I was wondering,” Ed said. Darius shook his head, and crossed the room to their kitchen, to pull a drink out of their fridge.

“Ed,” Ling said, pulling his eyes back to him. “Do you _need_ anything?”

Ed blinked, and remembered, _I’m working on him being at least a little better at the caretaking and consent part of things_. Oh. “No – I’m fine. We didn’t. Um,” Ed was even less sure of what to say suddenly. Ling and Greed were partners, so he’d gathered, but they clearly didn’t tell each other about every person they brought here to feed from, though that wasn’t even _why_ Greed had asked him over, and Ed wasn’t sure if that made him being over unexpectedly better or worse. Did Greed care if Ling knew what they _had_ done? Did Ed? Had they even really done anything? Being thralled and falling asleep didn’t really qualify as anything. “I was having a bad day,” Ed said, to stop his brain’s spiral, “and Greed offered to help.”

Darius was giving Ling a _look_ from where he was leaning against the counter, which Ling either completely ignored, or didn’t notice. Understanding does seem to creep across Ling’s face though, like he knew what Ed was talking about. “Still. Feel free to help yourself to any of the food.”

“But _none_ of the food with my name on it,” Darius huffed, giving his container of purple liquid a shake.

“But I like the smell of your grape juice,” Ling whined, like this was an attack on him, and not a perfectly reasonable request.

“Then don’t poor yourself a glass that you can’t drink,” Darius said. “You can smell it without wasting it.”

Ed interrupted, “I really need to go home before my brother ends my life by sheer spite. But,” he looked at Ling, “thanks for the offer. I’ll see you around?”

Ling grinned with the power of stars. Ed wanted to be pulled into his orbit. Instead he gave Ling a little wave and moved towards the door. “See you around, Edward,” Ling said.

It wasn’t until he heard the door close and he was halfway down the street, that Edward took a deep breath. _Okay_. He habitually inventoried his belongings: the library books, the spare knife he kept in his jacket pocket, and the one in his pants, the cushion in his left boot to make walking on his prosthetic slightly less jarring, his wallet, his pocket watch full of charms.

He could feel that none of them had gone off. And he hoped that that would be enough for Al.

Their homes really weren’t far away from each other.

The lights were on, shining through closed curtains. There was a small tick of anxiety, but mostly, Ed was relieved that Al was home.

He doesn’t get the chance to open the door.

Al stood there, staring at him with fire filled rage, and Ed watched him back.

For a moment, he thought he’d get one of Al’s near famous, in Resembool, mothering tirades. But his face changes, after a moment. Relieved. Understanding, perhaps. “You look… well rested,” he said, instead of anything else he could say.

“Ah, yeah,” Ed started, once again back to – how does he _talk_ about nothing when nothing _feels_ like something? “I stayed at,” Ed stopped, again. Did Al have a preference between Greed and Ling? Would it bother him more or less if he referenced one over the other? Did Ed even care if Al had a preference? “Greed’s.”

Ed had a strong desire to ram his face into the wall. He was overthinking this.

Al simply raised every feature on his face in judgement. “And?” Al asked, but he stepped back, let Ed enter their apartment. “How was that?”

“Boring,” Ed said. He maneuvered himself around his crutches, shouldered off his bag, wiped his shoes clean, careful not catch his prosthetic foot on the mat and trip himself.

“Oh?”

And not that they had lived here long, not that he knew every nook and cranny of this place like he had their home in Resembool, or Winry’s, or teacher’s, not that he hadn’t been in here before, well rested and awake, but: he always thought their home looked different without sleep deprivation to colour everything. Warmer. Ed said, “All I did was sleep.”

Al nodded. “Then you’re rested enough to properly spar with me?” Al asked.

“Properly?” Ed sputtered. “What does that even mean?”

“You’ve been,” Al shrugged, “tired. I wouldn’t want to take advantage.”

Ed gaped. So much for getting off easy. Al was _mocking_ him.

“Fine,” Ed said. _Fine_. “When?”

“Why not now?”

Ed would’ve preferred the mothering tirade.

They don’t really have a yard. It’s a communal space, that the six apartments in their building share. There’s a little kid that runs back to their parents any time that Ed or Al go into the back, a couple who Ed has _never_ seen enter the yard, but they keep some flowers on their steps, a calico cat who sometimes sits on the fence, and sometimes begs for food, and sometimes is nowhere to be found, and a woman with blonde hair who Ed is ninety percent certain is watching he and Al. Ed had never met or seen whomever it is that takes care of the plants in the yard, but they’re clearly taken care of. Maybe it’s the couple with the flowers. Or one of their other neighbors that Ed should probably introduce himself to at some point. Right now though, the yard was completely empty.

Al adjusted his mask, and fidgeted with the backs of his tinted glasses, to make sure they’d stay on. “You ready?” Al asked, bouncing down the three steps into the yard.

“Are you?” Ed challenged, swinging down behind him.

Ed liked sparring with Al. Al actually gave him something to work with. Knew that Ed had spent most of his life balancing himself on crutches, and that he absolutely did not need to keep his feet on the ground. Knew that Ed couldn’t make fine movements with his prosthetic's, but they were _fantastic_ for blunt impacts and quick pivots. Knew that really, the only thing that took Ed down long enough to get an advantage over him in a fight, was knocking him off his feet.

So Ed didn’t give Al the chance.

Al backed off as Ed moved forward. Ed kept his weight just slightly more on his left side, to keep himself free to react. Al lunged; Ed planted his right crutch in front of him and took the force of Al’s blow with his prosthetic, then swung his body around it to land a kick on Al’s hip, to back him up again.

Sparring with Al was like dancing.

They knew each other’s weak points and strong points by heart. He knew that Al struggled with long term stamina, so long fights were the best way to beat him. Knew that Al favored using brute force, over strategizing. Knew that Al’s favorite way to get the upper hand when they fought was to get a hold of his right crutch, since it was attached to Ed, and he lacked dexterity in his prosthetic limb to pry him off.

Ed swung his body forward in two large crutch strides, twisting towards the end to ram his shoulder into Al, who dodged back, again. Ed kept spinning, raising his left crutch as he did, to whip into Al’s side. A soft _oof_ yanked its way out of Al’s mouth, before –

_Al_ _laughed_.

Ed stared at him, confused.

“I told you,” Al said. He sounded happy. Content. “You’ve been _tired_.”

“Oh _shut up_,” Ed said, but he was grinning, now. Couldn’t help himself, really. “I could beat you in my sleep.”

“Then prove it.”

They both moved forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because of my condition, sometimes my right arm doesn’t work, and I have to put it in a sling, and go about my day like normal. Tying shoes with one hand is annoying as fuck. Far from impossible. Just. Annoying.  
Also, for the end of this scene, and for several later scenes in this fic, I had to figure out what I can and can't do while on my crutches, and spent a substantial amount of time swinging around on my crutches, kicking and hitting things for scientific fic writing purposes. I really hope nobody saw me.  
For anybody who cares about my computer nonsense, it can basically be summarized as: my computer attempted to automatically update, and failed, and in the process of failing, somehow severed the connection between my cloud and my computer. Which, fine, would've been annoying, but not the worst. But for reasons, unbeknownst to me, it created a second desktop "folder," and saved all of the documents on my actual desktop to that folder, in my cloud, and corrupted, every single document, on my physical desktop. Like. They're all fucking blank documents. But if you try and open the desktop "folder" it wouldn't let you, because the cloud connection had been severed, for some reason. So. My mother fixed the cloud connection, I updated my computer successfully, I appear to be able to save things to my proper fucking desktop again, but, I am now saving things to four different places, because opening up your 60,000 word document and having it be completely blank, is not an experience I would ever like to repeat.  
ANY-FUCKING-WAYS.  
I'm gonna go drink coffee and sleep. Thanks for stopping by. Kudo's and comments equal another hour my puppy will let me nap.  
See y'all soon!  
Love you.  
\- Lthyy


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I loved my rough draft for this chapter, HATED me re-write, and then rewrote it, again, and am actually pretty content with this.  
It's not perfect, but. I am happy with it.

Ling had been looking at him with his, _we should talk_, face, since Greed walked through the door. And Greed knew why, more or less: he wasn’t stupid.

He just also _didn’t want to talk about it_.

Ling was a brat. Dumping himself into Greed’s life and making him care – _you already cared_, Ling had told him once, _I just reminded you_. And when Greed cared, he made stupid decisions. He stared intently at the book he had picked up off the counter.

“What’s got you brooding?” Darius asked, in the _almost_ jolly, too serious, way he spoke. Greed glared at him. Heinkel was preparing something for he and Darius to eat for dinner, while Darius leaned against the counter, providing idle commentary, in the way that Darius deemed necessary.

“I think he and Ling are being territorial,” Heinkel said.

And that soured everything.

“We aren’t,” he and Ling said at the same time. Heinkel shrugged. Darius looked between Greed and where Ling was perched on the arm of the couch.

“Of course not,” Darius said.

Greed was crossing the few steps between them, book landing loudly on the ground, before he could think better of it. “We _aren’t_,” he growled, placing himself dangerously in Darius’ space. Darius doesn’t react.

“Greed,” Ling said. His voice is soft, and obnoxiously calm. He hated all of them. Sometimes, he missed having followers who feared him.

“Whatever,” Greed said, throwing his hands in the air, before shoving them back down into the pockets of his vest. “I’m going out,” he snapped, walking out the front door with his head high. He stood on their front step, and felt the wind brush through his hair, the building casting a shadow over him from the last streaks of remaining sunlight. It was late enough, that the remaining heat from the sun was just a reminder of the days he could, but shouldn’t, be out during.

Most humans didn’t take kindly to vampires mingling with them. Not in Amestris. Ed didn’t seem to mind though, even if from the looks of it, he and Al should be exactly the people who did.

Greed had no intentions on going far. Around the edge of the building, a fire escape hung just out of reach, which he jumped up and grabbed with ease of practice, fingers gripped into the steel, and feet pressing off the shingle siding with ease. _Unnatural grace_, humans said. No. He just understood how to move his body because he wasn’t an _idiot_.

He perched himself on the roof and felt the last dredges of the sun set behind him, as he looked out at an upside-down city, night life, night creatures, getting up to go and do what they did. Ed might be out tonight. Or maybe his siblings. Greed grimaced. Hopefully, not both of them. His fingers twitched with the impulse to make sure Ed was okay. He shoved it away. Instead, something caught his attention.

“Lan-Fan?” he said. He thought he heard the movement of their clothes, or caught their smell on the wind, so he looked to the far side of the roof where Lan-Fan had settled themself on the edge. “You know I don’t like you following me,” Greed said.

Lan-Fan gave him a blank look. “I wanted to see if you would do anything interesting,” they said. Heinkel and Darius teased him for it, but Lan-Fan had picked up on exactly the way to talk to him to make him listen for more than five seconds. “Sometimes you do.”

Greed didn’t say anything. He thought about telling them to leave, or telling them to go bother Ling instead, but he didn’t.

Lan-Fan watched the city with him. He liked Lan-Fan. Certainly more than the guard Ling had had before them. Lan-Fan was interesting and didn’t detest Greed’s existence. To be fair, Lan-Fan didn’t know Greed before Ling.

The moon was bright, near full, and people filled the streets in its glow. In two days, nobody would be out; nobody wanted to risk an encounter with werefolk in their element, even if the humans here got along with them, now a days. Greed suspected there’d be even less people out, if they knew the chaos that Greed’s siblings could cause stalking Central. _His city_.

“Ling will be here shortly,” Lan-Fan said in their matter of fact way. Warned him, maybe.

“Figured.”

Lan-Fan disappeared over the roof’s edge to do whatever it was that Lan-Fan did when they were in the shadows. Go home, maybe. They had to have a home somewhere, when they weren’t stalking Ling’s every movement. If nothing else, Greed didn’t think Ling would let Lan-Fan not have a home somewhere. That Ling would sooner have Lan-Fan move in with them.

And Greed thought he fought with Heinkel and Darius, often. Lan-Fan would be a passive aggressive nightmare. Greed shook his head. Of course if Ling asked, Greed would figure it out.

Ling joined him without a word, swung his body neatly onto the roof without the assistance of the fire escape, balanced perfectly on the peak, and walked over to join him, feet soundless against the shingles. Ling crouched next to him, didn’t sit, and looked out at the night. Ling did have unnatural grace, but he had when he was human, as well. Like Lan-Fan, or Lan-Fan’s predecessor. Ling’s eyes fell from the city and centered on him.

Ling was waiting for Greed to start, and Greed would rather not.

Maybe it was pity, and Greed loathed that thought, that Ling gave him the easy conversation, first. “You said you were going to talk to your siblings,” Ling said.

“I _said_ I was going to talk to Lust,” Greed said.

“Right.”

Greed looked back out at the moonlit roads, smelled the people on the wind, listened to the sounds that carried to him from ordinary people living ordinary lives. He remembered when this city was young, full of dirt paths and plant life. “They aren’t out tonight,” he said.

“But?”

Greed shook his head. He didn’t know. That was the problem. “They’re up to something. Lust said something about dragon’s,” he said, “but Gluttony showed up, and it went south.”

Ling tipped his head, curious. “Dragon’s? I haven’t seen a dragon in…” Ling didn’t finish his sentence.

“That would be their fault,” Greed said. “I don’t know why, though.”

“They’re killing dragons?” Ling asked. “Or just –”

“Killing. A vampire would be hard-pressed to actually capture and hold a dragon for any length of time,” Greed said. He had known many dragons and dragonkin when he was younger. Even the dragonkin, who were substantially less powerful than actual dragons, would be hard to contain. No. Killing was a far easier plan. “I gather it’s more complicated than that,” Greed said. “But I don’t actually care. I just want them out of my city.”

“Your city,” Ling echoed. Across the night, it was the first time that Ling looked unsure. Greed quirked an eyebrow. Ling had heard him call Central that before, surely. And Ling knew how long Greed had been here. “Are we being territorial?” Ling asked, the words tumbling out of his mouth.

“Are we – what?”

“Being territorial,” Ling said. Greed stared at him for a long moment.

“Of?”

“Ed.”

And suddenly, Greed understood. “Don’t be ridiculous,” Greed said. He doesn’t scoff. He debates doing so.

“Good,” Ling said.

For a second, Greed’s mind provided a future where they’re territorial of Ed, together. Keep him safe from harm, together. Make sure nobody ever hurts him again, together. Give him everything in their power to give him, together. For a second, it’s a great picture. “He’s all yours,” Greed said instead.

Ling looked like he didn’t believe him at all. “Ed gets to choose what he wants,” Ling said.

Greed shrugged. “Then let him, wannabe prince.” Ling gave him a sideways look, before he reached up and pulled out the tie that held back his hair. It spilled over his shoulders like the night that spilled over the sky. There are a _lot_ of things that Greed wanted and wanted to do in that moment.

“You haven’t called me that in a long time,” Ling said.

“You don’t act like that anymore,” Greed said, “most of the time.” Ling knocked their shoulders together.

“Like what?” Ling said. He grinned at him, teeth reflecting in the night’s light. Greed reached over, and pressed his fingers into Ling’s hair, pulled him a little closer, and kissed him.

“Self-important,” Greed muttered against his mouth.

Ling laughed. “You’re one to talk.”

“I _am_ important!”

“And I’m still royalty,” Ling said.

Greed sprawled back onto the roof. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, with the slant, and the shingles pressing against his back. Ling relaxed next to him, tucking one foot under his body, resting his chin on his knee, curtaining his face in his hair.

“Ed,” Greed started again. Ling tipped his head to the side, uncovering his face.

“Yes?”

“He likes you,” Greed said.

“Well, I am –”

“_Ling_.”

Ling frowned. He reached out and grabbed Greed’s hand. Greed looked at it, at the way their fingers fit together. Ling was affectionate. Sometimes, Greed could be; sometimes, he didn’t know what to do with it, even after thirty years.

“Tell me what you want to say to me, Greed,” Ling said, giving his hand a squeeze, even and calm as ever. Greed leaned the rest of the way back, and covered his face with his other arm.

“Edward likes you. And… you have my encouragement,” Greed said. He didn’t look at Ling. He didn’t grimace.

“And you?”

“What about me?”

“You and Ed.”

Greed opened his mouth, then shut it, then moved his arm to look at Ling. “There’s nothing between Ed and I,” he said in the flattest tone possible. With the look Ling gave him in return, Greed half expected Ling to shove him off the roof.

He doesn’t.

“If that’s what you believe,” Ling said. “Thank you for talking to me.”

“Yeah,” Greed said, lips pressed into a thin line, “whatever.”

Ling held Greed’s hand and they watched the night as it got darker and quieter. Greed held his _caring_ inside of his chest, or in between his and Ling’s hand’s, and didn’t say or do anything. Because if there was anything that made Greed reckless, it was caring.

And with his siblings around, now was a terrible time to care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greed has feelings. It's fine.  
Dragons are cool.  
Backtracking for a sec, the bed I describe Greed having in the last chapter is my dream bed. When I was a child I loved writing stories with vampires, because the concept of sleeping in a small, dark, space, like a coffin, just seemed really pleasant. I am now 23 and it still seems really pleasant.  
Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are always appreciated.  
Love y'all!  
\- Lthyy


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I poofed into the ether. I just had a shit show of two weeks, consisting of, getting super sick out of the blue, an urgent care trip, my bus getting into a car crash, breaking my finger while walking a dog (not my dog), leading to urgent care trip number two, my normal puppy sitter being out of town so having to manage my puppy 100% of the time while unwell, with a broken finger, and work being a general hell storm of shit.  
I'm not really completely happy with this chapter, specifically some of the transitions, but I just don't care right now, and I want to get back to some of the chapters I'm really excited about.  
Anyways. Thanks for all of y'alls nice comments so far. :)

Habit was an interesting thing.

Ed liked habits. He liked routines. He liked rhythm in everyday life that could be repeated. In Central City, among other things, the market was his chore; they ate dinner with the Hughes once a week; he wiped down and cleaned his crutches every day when he got home; he returned checked out library books on Fridays; and he and Al spent full moon’s with Gracia and Elicia.

Maes was worried that she didn’t understand that full moons were different and would go after him. And while Ed was fairly certain it was unnecessary, he liked being able to ease Maes’ mind while he was gone.

_Gone_. Like were-ism was something that one could simply _go away_ to do.

Elicia sat on the floor of the Hughes’ living room drawing with Al, unconcerned about the outside world. She laughed at something Al had drawn, before she went back to scribbling on her own paper. Ed was sat at the table with a book in his hand.

He wasn’t making much headway.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Edward?” Gracia asked. She was doing chores around the town home, periodically coming in and out of the living room to check in on all of them.

“Of course,” Ed said.

“Are you sure? You heard me over your book,” she said. It was gentle. Teasing, but always kind.

“Oh.” Ed looked at the book open in his hand. “I had wanted to re-familiarize myself with non-humans,” Ed said. “I remembered this book having a good section on Elementals – fae in generally, really – and I wanted to see if it extended to other non-humans as well.”

Gracia placed herself in the seat next to him, the chair making a soft noise when she moved it away from the table. “And why are we reading about non-humans?” she asked.

Ed furrowed his brow and looked at the book, before looking back up at her.

“I recently met a vampire who likes tea,” he said, instead of anything else he could’ve said. Really, it had been an impulse, to grab the book. He knew more than enough about vampires thanks to Winry, thanks to his poor choices, thanks to his and Al’s teacher. Ling liking tea was _weird_, but not unheard of. It’s not like vampires lost their senses, they just changed.

Greed was actually strange, which was why he had the book now. Logically, he could remember how overpowering and different Greed’s thrall was even if his actual memory of being thralled was fuzzy and half formed – and he was pretty certain Greed put him to sleep shortly after thralling him, anyways. But vampires didn’t have thralls like Greed did. Vampires couldn’t thrall him. But Greed almost had.

If Ed hadn’t been expecting it, Greed would’ve caught him immediately. Even _with_ Ed expecting it, Greed had practically caught him immediately.

“Are you being safe?” she asked. She looked concerned.

“Wha- _yes_, I’m being safe,” he said. He knew what she was asking though. He and Al hadn’t met the Hughes until after their mistake, but they were family now, so they knew. “I don’t hunt,” Ed said. “He’s just a friend.”

“I know you don’t,” Gracia said gently, smiling at him. Ed shrunk back a little, guilt twinging in his chest. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I’m safe,” he said. Gracia smiled at him.

“Then I’ll leave you to your book,” she said.

Al and Elicia were still colouring. The night was calm inside this house. Ed could almost feel the memory of Resembool’s evening breeze on his skin. Calm autumn nights dissolving into each other. Winry tucked in her seat as he and Al ran around. Collected the flowers by the river which were the perfect catalyst for a simple levitation spell.

Ed returned to his book.

It didn’t have anything he didn’t already know. A few speculative ideas regarding vampire digestion; a theoretical origin of vampirism; the debate about whether or not vampires could survive off the blood of non-humans; the known people to have claimed to have been cured of their vampirism.

Ed closed it with a sigh, and dropped the book on the table. Al and Elicia both looked up at him. “Are you gonna come draw with us?” Elicia asked.

“You know I can’t really draw,” Ed said, but he started to shift himself out of his seat anyways.

“Anybody can draw!” Elicia said, giving him Maes big grin as she waved a pencil at him. Ed wasn’t wearing his right arm prosthetic, the end of his sleeve tucked into his pocket. He walked carefully across the room, mindful to not catch his foot on anything, and stopped by Al who wordlessly offered him an arm.

Ed leveraged himself to the floor with minimal help from Al and picked up a red pencil in fingers that still didn’t want to hold it. “Are we drawing anything specific?” Ed asked, twisting the pencil between his fingers. Years of writing had made the action of writing normal, but he’d never quite picked up the subtleties of drawing. Then again, he hadn’t spent much time drawing as a child, either.

“I _was_ drawing dad,” she said, holding up the picture. It was of a series of people, remarkably accurate for it still being childishly crude. “But then I decided to draw all of us!” There was another girl with the label, _MY BFF_, next to her, and then Elicia, then Maes and Gracia, with Ed and Al on the end. Ed smiled, and pointed at a creature on the bottom of the page with the pencil.

“And this?” Ed asked. “You don’t have a dog.”

“That’s also dad!”

Ed choked, and glanced at Al who gave a tiny, helpless, shrug. “I – that’s – he’s not –” Ed stopped and looked at the ceiling as he tried to collect his thoughts. “Werewolves aren’t really wolves,” Ed settled on. Elicia shrugged.

“But he’s nice and more wolf-like when he wills the change,” she said. A tiny frown touched her mouth, and Ed desperately wanted to redirect this conversation to anywhere else. “I know he’s not like that tonight.” She fidgeted with the drawing.

“What do you know about werefolk?” Ed found himself asking. She looked at him, and tipped her head to the side, pigtails bouncing with the movement.

“Well, in class we were told that they lose their mind whenever they shift, but that’s obviously not true,” she said. “And I know that they’re really good at recognizing other shapeshifters for some reason. Oh! And that we’ve only ever found werefolk for larger land animals.”

Ed nodded. “Werefolk don’t lose their mind when they shift, you’re right,” Ed said. “But shape shifting is hard to learn how to do, so many werefolk never learn, and only shift when the full moon makes them. And on the full moon, werefolk are…” Ed paused as he tried to find the easiest way to describe it, “their mind is the most animal-like, so they can be unsafe to be around during the moon change.”

Elicia nodded, and looked remarkably excited after hearing all of that. “So my dad is really talented because he can shape shift at will? I knew it! He’s the best!” Ed let out the breath that had been holding him tight.

“Your dad is talented,” Ed agreed. “Do you want to know more about werefolk, or –”

“Tell me more!” Elicia exclaimed, picture flurrying away from her.

He put up his hand in surrender. “But not for too long. It’s getting late.”

Elicia fell asleep to Ed telling her all of the positive stories he could think of about werefolk.

He and Al were settled in Maes’ and Gracia’s bedroom. On full moon’s, Gracia preferred to sleep on the couch and offer up their room to Ed and Al. Maes would come back mid-morning, and they’d chat over coffee and cocoa before Maes’ would go to bed and Elicia and Gracia would do something nice for him, and Ed and Al would slip back away to their private lives.

“What’s on your mind, brother?” Al asked.

Ed rubbed his hand over his face. “Family,” he mumbled. Al didn’t respond to that. Ed worked his way around to, “Maes isn’t our dad.”

“And Gracia isn’t our mom, and Elicia isn’t our sister,” Al said. “So?”

Ed shook his head. “Nothing,” he said.

“It’s not nothing,” Al said.

Ed pursed his lips, and met Al’s eyes. “She drew us in her picture,” he said.

Al watched him, like Ed wasn’t making any sense. “I know you aren’t stupid,” Al said, and Ed rolled his eyes, “so I know you know that their family has always cared about us. We _live_ in their property that they just _gave_ to us, Edward.”

“It’s not that,” Ed said. “Gracia mothers us. And Maes fathers us. And Elicia genuinely considers us her _brothers_,” Ed said. It’s _everything_ he wanted from their father. _Had_ wanted. He was trying not to care anymore, since he walked out of their lives when Al was still a toddler. But a father. Who loved and stayed with their partner. And siblings to talk to and play with and teach. Ed swallowed. But their father had walked out and that life was crushed with it.

“We’re always welcome over,” Al said. Always welcome to spend time with them. Be one of them. Seek their companionship and counsel.

“I know,” Ed said. They had talked about this before. _Extensively_ when the apartment had originally been offered to them. What did it mean to accept something like that? What did it mean to be _offered_ something like that? Here, have a home. Have safety. Have somewhere to return to. The Hughes family _chose _them.

Ed’s chest ached.

Al turned off the light. The curtains were open to let the sun wake them, even though Ed would have to go and close them first thing.

“Sleep well, Edward,” Al said.

Ed turned onto his side to face away from Al. “You too, Alphonse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to go to sleep.  
I hope that you at least mostly enjoyed this chapter.  
Leave kudos, bookmark this fic, and comments equal life. And as always, thanks for stopping by!  
Sorry in advance if I'm unable to post every day like I was doing. Broken finger complicates typing a little bit. Anyways  
Love y'all!  
\- Lthyy


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIRST: I have a question.  
I had titled Mei's shop "pulse" as a throw back to alkahestry's dragon's pulse in the show. However, my partner and I had a conversation the other day about how maybe that's not a great choice, because of the pulse shooting. So I've been debating changing the name of her store just to be "dragon's pulse." Do people have thoughts on this? For the moment, I have left it unchanged as pulse.  
Anyways.  
We are currently at a point in my story where I just, apparently, am going to be mildly unhappy with everything I post. Not like, extremely unhappy. I do like this chapter. It's just. Slightly not what I wanted it to be. Slightly off. Or something.  
But I hope you enjoy this chapter!  
I really enjoyed getting a little more into Ed's kitchen magic in this chapter. I like to build magic systems, so I've thought a lot about what goes into the different types of magic present in this world, and it's fun to show off different aspects of it.

Ed placed his pencil down, picked up his coffee, and looked over his notes.

A base of celery, with ash and fennel, and echinacea for the catalyst, would have to do.

Part of Ed figured he was overthinking this. It was one vampire, who he even trusted as much as Ed could trust anybody he didn’t know through and through, _and yet_ – he wanted the choice, and he wanted it to be an easy one. This part of Ed would occasionally start saying _if there’s one, there are others; if there are others, you and Al are at risk_. And ultimately, Ed couldn’t handle that.

So he’d started to compile what he’d need and need to do to make a charm to strengthen his and Al’s preexisting resistance to thrall’s. Inside a runic circle for Air and Self, with a solid border of salt, he’d weave fibers of celery into strands of natural cotton, tie it around the ash and fennel, and catalyze it by burning the echinacea and using those flames to char the rest of the spell work. The actual charm would be written with the ashen remains onto a piece of cotton he or Al could keep on themselves.

Maybe Ed was overthinking this. He could go to pulse, or any magic shop, and buy a protection charm, or a strengthening charm, or a mental fortitude charm.

But Ed knew he was good at this, and he trusted his kitchen magic over most others, including witches magic.

He already had most of what he needed at home, but he’d need ash and celery. Besides, he told Al he wouldn’t be out all day, and that he’d come home with groceries. He trusted Mei to have decent ash at pulse, and while Ed preferred to pick his own supplies if available, the market would have to do for celery. Ed tucked his notes into his pocket and got ready to leave the café. He had started to wear his red coat more consistently in the cooling weather, but it was a frustrating extra step every time he went in and out of the warmer indoors, and cooler streets.

Ed made it about five swings out of the café and towards the market when Ling fell into step next to him. Ed flinched, and Ling looked apologetic, giving him a bashful smile. “Someday, you need to tell me what scaring the shit out of people has to do with heightened survival skills,” Ed said.

“In my defense, you figured out I was following you the first time substantially before I expected you would,” Ling said with a shrug.

“I can ignore thralls, I don’t have non-human senses,” Ed said. His brow furrowed. “Wait, were you following me again?” Ed asked. “Why?”

“I wasn’t,” Ling said, “you’re just not very difficult to find.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ed asked. Ling gave him a curious look.

“You don’t look like you’re from around here,” Ling said with a shrug. “Now, where are we going?”

Ed stared at Ling for a long moment, debating how much he wanted to push that comment. Did he _look_ like he was from the country? “I need to get food for the week,” Ed said, “and stop at pulse to buy some ash.”

“Oh!” Ling perked up. “I’ve been meaning to go and speak with Mei anyways.” Ling looked over at Ed and added, “A friend told me that she has a special someone in her life. Someone you know.” Ed groaned.

“She and Al are too sweet,” Ed grumbled. Ling laughed. “They went on a day trip last week and Al has practically been _glowing_ since then.” As Ling’s laughter faded away, Ed found that he wanted to hear more of it. A smile forced its way onto his face to match Ling’s.

They wound their way through the market. Ling clearly knew people at the various stalls, speaking with vendors, and though mostly following Ed around, Ling left him to his own devices. So Ed watched Ling. In the afternoon sun, Ling looked slightly less human than he did in the shadows. No specific one thing: slightly too sharp, slightly too fluid, slightly too different. Ling leaned back as he walked, hands in his pockets, smiling at the sky, in an obnoxiously charming manner.

“If you aren’t careful, you’ll trip,” Ed said. Ling shrugged.

“There are nicer things to look at right now.” Ling’s eyes flicked across the market, before settling back on the blue sky, the clouds and afternoon sunlight dappling the city.

“I take it you don’t go out much during the day,” Ed said.

“That,” Ling said, tipping his head to look back at Ed, “among other things.”

Ed looked forward. He could feel the blush that tried to press its way onto his face. He did his best to will it away. His mouth did a poor job at coming up with a comeback, and he spat out, “Shut up.” Ling grinned at him, nimbly walking backwards, Ed swinging after him on his crutches.

Ling twisted back to face forward, calling back, “You’re done with your groceries, right?” Ed made an affirmative sound, and Ling began leading the way out of the stalls and booths and people, towards a familiar street, a familiar store, and a familiar mask.

Mei poked her head out the door. “Oh, _that’s_ no good,” she said. “Yao brother, why are you with the small one?”

“Mei, knock it –”

“You _are_ short, you know,” Ling agreed. Ed glared at him.

“You will _never_ say that again,” Ed said, “if you wanna keep talking to me.”

“He won’t actually follow through with that threat. Now come on, what do you need this time? Come to peruse my greenhouse again?” Mei asked. Ed did his best to let their treachery go and not sulk, as he swung his way into pulse behind Mei, who took off her mask as soon as they stepped inside.

“Ling said he wanted to speak with you,” Ed said, “but I’m looking for ash.”

Mei stepped behind her counter and started sifting through a drawer. “You know I already have protection charms,” she said, not looking up from her drawer. Ed leaned against the counter, and eyed Ling, who looked substantially more in his element in the shadow filled shop.

“It’s more specific than that. And you know I prefer making my own,” Ed said.

“I know,” Mei said. She placed three pieces of wood in front of Ed. “You’ll want one of these: from the root, from a branch, and what would’ve been a sapling, had it not died.”

Ed thought about it for a moment, before he said, “The root.” Mei carefully started to wrap the piece of ash root in tissues like it was a sacred thing, and for a moment, Ed wondered if it was. But Mei wouldn’t sell something important to her.

Would she?

“Ling,” she said, as she wrapped the root, “why are you here?”

“Oh, can’t I just visit it my _darling_ sister, and ask her what she’s been doing lately?” Ling said, leaning onto the counter. Mei glared back at him, the two intently focused on winning whatever this sibling rivalry between them was.

“Edward,” Mei said, not breaking eye contact with Ling, “why is he here?”

Ed shrugged. “He’s been following me around all afternoon,” Ed said. “I guess he’s decent enough company.” Ling balked at him, like Ed had made the most offensive comment ever, and Ed grinned back. Mei cackled from where she was protected behind her counter.

“Why didn’t _I_ think to introduce you two? You do all the work of frustrating each other for me,” Mei said. Her face lit up as she exclaimed, “Oh! Edward,” she took a step back, “give me a minute,” before disappearing into the back of the shop. Ed stared after her, mouth open with half a come back that she had left before he could even come up with the words for.

“Your sister is confusing,” Ed said.

Ling placed himself against the counter next to Ed, facing the opposite direction of him. “She is, but she’s family.” Ed nodded. “You know. You can tell me to leave you alone.”

Ed blinked at him. The look on Ling’s face wasn’t exactly thoughtful, or worried, but not far from either. “I don’t want you to leave me alone,” Ed said, hunching his shoulders a touch, but making sure to keep eye contact with Ling. “You’re interesting, and,” Ed stopped himself. _I like you._

_I think._

_I know I want to get to know you better. Greed too. I want_ –

Words tried to rip themselves out of Ed’s mouth, but he choked them down. This was the wrong time, or wrong place. He glanced back towards where Mei had gone, and didn’t say anything. When he looked back to Ling, Ling was staring at Ed like he knew what was on his mind. “What are you doing with your evening?” Ed asked.

Ling gave him a little smile, a response to all of the unsaid words in Ed’s mouth. “I can walk you home, but I’m unfortunately busy tonight. Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Ed said. His fingers itched to reach out and touch Ling, but the movement would be awkward and slow, with how he had to hold his crutch. He could just remember what Ling’s fingers had felt like against his jaw, and wanted that touch back as well.

“Aaaaaaaalright,” Mei’s voice echoed into the room, a moment before she walked back in. Ed swallowed, and looked over at Mei, hoping everything he felt was wasn’t written plainly on his face. Mei was holding a small packet, which appeared to be occupying more of her attention than Ed’s haphazard feelings. “Edward,” she said, placing it on the counter in front of him, “you would probably call this pineapple-weed. Take it. The ash root will be 18,” she said.

Ed stared at the packet, and then shifted his weight to his right side, leaning his left crutch against the counter so he could pick it up and look at its contents. A few tablespoons of the dried herb were in the packet. “Is this the plant from the other week? From the matricaria family?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Why?” he said.

Mei’s stance was strong and determined. “Just take it,” she said. Ed looked back and forth between her and the packet for a long moment, as he tried to figure out _why_ she was acting so strangely. Apparently, his hesitation won out, and Mei released a put upon sigh. “It’s a feeling,” she said. “You’ll need it someday. And I only have the one plant from Xing, so take it now before I make you pay for it.”

Ed pocketed the packet of herbs. “Alright.”

They didn’t stay long after he paid for the ash, Mei pulling away to make sure another customer in her shop didn’t disturb anything, and Ed saying he needed to be heading back home to Al. Ed’s movements were slow, slower than he needed them to be, as they made their way down the street, but Ling wasn’t complaining, content to walk slowly next to him.

Ed struggled to find his words. If Mei’s shop had been the wrong place, then walking together, through the market that Ed loved, down streets that Ed had memorized, towards the home that was given to him, had to at least be _better_. And better was often all Ed could ask for. He had been through too much to not take advantage of better.

Ling beat him to speaking.

“What are you making the spell for?” Ling asked. Ed tried to wrap his mind back around to why he was making the spell, back to his notes. A touch of guilt trilled through his stomach like smoke, and Ed hesitated.

“It’s to strengthen my ability to block out thrall’s,” Ed said.

“Is that how you usually block out thrall’s?”

“No,” Ed said. He kept his eyes in front of him. “Being thralled is like being in a room with a switch, and I can choose at any time to turn it on, or keep it off. _Maybe_, with a little difficulty, but it’s still my choice. But Greed’s thrall is…”

“_Oh_,” Ling said.

Ed scuffed his feet over the ground. “It’s different,” Ed said. “Once I flipped the switch, I don’t think I could’ve turned it off. Not like with yours, or _every other thrall I’ve ever encountered_. And if he can do that, then…”

“Then other vampires can too,” Ling said. Ed released a breath. “It doesn’t bother you, right? That Greed and I are vampires?” Ed stopped, and they looked at each other.

“No,” Ed said. “Idiot, the first thing I let you do as a _stranger_ was feed from me.” Ed shook his head. “It would’ve when I was eight, but you’re about fifteen years too late to deal with me as a shit head kid. Al and I just keep each other safe. We’ve been through a lot.”

Ling nodded. He looked a little relieved, as he started walking again, any worry either forgotten, or shrugged off. “That’s good,” Ling said, as Ed caught up with him.

“Huh?”

“Oh, it’d be unfortunate if you didn’t like vampires,” Ling said. He shot Ed a full of himself grin and Ed rolled his eyes. The urge to touch Ling was back, so he bumped Ling’s shoulder with his own.

“You’re just full of yourself,” Ed countered. Ling knocked back into his shoulder. “Also,” Ed said, as they came to a stop one last time, “are you sure you aren’t following me?”

Ling’s face furrowed. “What?”

“I didn’t really lead us to my home, and yet.” Ed gestured to the two steps that led to his front door. Ling stared blankly at the door.

“Ah – like I said, you don’t look like you’re from around here,” Ling said instead. “It makes you easy to find.” Ed decided to let him have this one. He still had a question he needed to ask before he went inside, and he was trying to not be too distracted. Ed took a deep breath and forced himself to meet Ling’s eyes.

“Are you flirting with me?” Ed asked.

Ling’s focus was completely locked back on Ed, intense in a remarkably similar way to what Ling’s thrall felt like.

“Yes,” he said simply. A tiny smirk pressed up the corners of Ling’s mouth in a manner that once again reminded Ed of the danger that a vampire could pose, and how much he _didn’t care right now_. “Is it working?”

Ed could feel the blush dust itself over his cheeks, and he rubbed his jaw against his shoulder, like he could scrub the red or the stupid smile off. “Maybe,” he said, because just saying _yes_ was too embarrassing. “Is Greed?”

Ling looked away at that. “I think so,” Ling said. “He’s being… very _himself_ about it, though.” Ed nodded, though he wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. “You could ask him yourself; do you want him around tomorrow?” Ling asked.

“Yeah,” Ed said. He started to make his way towards his door, a smile on his face, and the set up for his spell work trickling back into his head, “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feeeeeeeeeeeeeelings were briefly talked about. Good job guys. I'm proud of you.  
I am going to try and set myself an upload goal of once a week, and see how that works out. Anyways.  
Thanks for stopping by! Leave comments, kudos, or bookmark the fic if you liked it. I love hearing people's theories, and so on, about my story and characters and relationships - or just whatever people want to say.  
We are fast approaching a number of Things that are going to Happen.  
Love y'all!  
\- Lthyy


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